My Allegiance
by supergirl4u
Summary: I have an allegiance to my husband and to my country. But I also have an allegiance to the people. The choices I make could make or break the revolution. My name is Analeigh Snow, and I am the wife of President Coriolanus Snow.
1. Prologue

_Hello everyone! I know it's been awhile since I've published a story, but it's just because I've been working on this one for so very long. It's kind of been my baby for about 10 months (off and on). It is FINISHED, although I will only publish one chapter at a time. How quickly I update is based on you! The more comments each chapter gets, the faster I update. I appreciate all of you, and hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it._

_I own nothing of the Hunger Games, but I do own the characters I have created like Analeigh Snow._

**Prologue**

I have an allegiance to my husband and to my country. But I also have an allegiance to the people. The choices I make could make or break the revolution. My name is Analeigh Snow, and I am the wife of President Coriolanus Snow.

Everyone told me I was a beautiful child. I never really thought about it much, and thankfully my parents never made that my best feature. They would tell me I that I was beautiful, but more that I was smart and funny and kind. They wanted me to know that those things were the most important in life.

Growing up in the Capitol, we had more luxury than most. And my parents always emphasized to my sisters and I how lucky we were. Viewing the news reports every evening, we could see the slums and lack of health and food in most of the other districts. At dinner, my father would make each of us say three things we were thankful for. My older sister, Arabelle, was usually thankful for whatever affected her that day, a good grade in class or the smile from a special boy. Avalina, my younger sister, was always thankful for her friends. She would list them by name to get her three. But mine never changed. I was thankful for my family, for the food we eat, and for the love we have.

We would watch the Hunger Games every year when the district children were forced to fight to the death. It made my mother physically sick, so much so that she would sit in the bathroom during the reapings and cry. My father could barely watch from his reclining chair, his hands clenched into tight fists. We didn't understand it when we were younger. We thought it was a show. Everyone else in the Capitol seemed to look forward to this event with such enthusiasm. Surely it was not real. These children were not really dying. But as we got older, we realized…it was no show. And we better understood our parent's reactions.

It was understood in the Capitol that you showed no compassion for the districts, so outwardly we were just like everyone else. We kept our opinions to ourselves. My mother and Arabelle indulged in the latest fashion trends. Arabelle especially loved the makeup and clothes and hair. Her skin was always unnaturally white. Purple was her favorite color and every bit of her was wrapped in it. From her hair to her nails and lips. Every shirt, pant, skirt, dress, and shoe…it was all in shades of purple. Avalina was still too young and too much of a tomboy to care. And although most of the other girls my age at that time indulged in at least some form of body modification, I preferred not to. Natural beauty is not normally seen in the Capitol, and maybe that's why they all thought I was so extraordinary.

My sisters and I did not share all the same features, and I think Arabelle might have always been a bit jealous. She was exquisitely gorgeous, of course, underneath all the makeup and dyes. Arabelle and Avalina received my father's curly dark brown hair. I received my mother's hair, straight and shiny and a shade of dark red that lights up in the sun. We shared our father's icy blue eyes, which was sometimes the only way people could tell we were sisters.

I was 16 when President Snow visited my school to give a speech. He had recently risen to the highest in command of Panem, although I don't remember any election. It was a huge honor to have him at the school, and everybody was dressed in their best. I remember my dress perfectly. It was the same shade of blue as my eyes, adorned in white, sparkling jewels, and hung to my knees. Mother combed my hair down my back, curled it under, and pulled the front of it out of my eyes with a jeweled clip. All the other girls and boys stopped and stared as I walked in.

You would think with the bright lights and cameras in his face he wouldn't notice a young girl sitting in a crowded auditorium . But somehow he spotted me, and I guess he liked what he saw.

Coriolanus Snow was in his forties, more than double my age. He had a full head of black hair and a thick beard which was graying quickly. His eyes were small and slanted, but the color was a soft brown.

He started by sending roses. Every Friday they arrived for me, white with a thick aroma. They filled the whole house with a sweet smell. The first time he came to visit, it was unannounced. He merely showed up at the front door, carrying a large bouquet of those beautiful flowers. I could barely contain my excitement. The President of Panem had come to visit _me_. My parents didn't like it much. They chatted politely and my mother fixed a wonderful supper to feed us, but I could tell by the looks in their faces. Arabelle flirted with him overtly, batting her fake eyelashes, crossing her legs and leaning into him at the table. But he was only looking at me.

He made me feel like a queen. I suppose I was smitten from the start. It would be hard for any young woman to ignore, the most powerful man in the country taking an interest in them. I was so young that I could see nothing else. My parents tried to warn me. They talked to me incessantly about how he was not a good man. How he encouraged the Hunger Games and forced the obedience of the 12 districts through manipulation and cruelty. My mother worried about how old he was and how he had been married before with a daughter older than me. And the little talked about fact that his previous wife had died only a few years ago under mysterious circumstances.

But as soon as I turned 18, President Coriolanus Snow proposed. We were married in a quiet ceremony in the sunroom overlooking the snow-covered gardens at his mansion that winter. It was everything I had dreamed. My mother told me I was positively radiant. I was formally announced as his wife at the commencement of the 56th Hunger Games in front of the entire country. The crowd cheered and applauded enthusiastically. Coriolanus gave me a big kiss in front of everyone and told me how beautiful I looked and how much he loved me. I had never felt happier.

And I would never be that happy again. Because soon after that my entire family died in a fire. And the President of Panem began showing me his true colors.


	2. Chapter 1

_Well, nobody reviewed, and I am sad :( Here is the next chapter. Hope you like it!_

**Chapter 1**

Eighteen years I've been living in this mansion. Eighteen years. It's hard to believe, but my reflection in the mirror reminds me of those years gone by. There are wrinkles around my eyes, and the skin sags a little in my cheeks. I've been told I'm still a striking woman, but certainly not the same woman as in my youth. Of course, I've also been offered some "improvements" numerous times, but I refuse. I like my imperfections. My hair is the same shade of red and my eyes are still a light blue, although they carry more wisdom and worry than before. Nothing else really matters to me.

Spring is in full bloom. I can feel it in the air. Winter was brutal with many freezing rains and blustery snows, but now the sun is rising warmer. The gardens are sprouting full of fragrant flowers in colors of green, yellow, white, and red. It should be a wonderful time of year. But with spring also comes the reapings and the Hunger Games.

I sit at the vanity, brushing my hair. The wood is a dark brown and smooth to the touch. It is delicate and yet strong, just like all the furniture in my room. Coriolanus and I shared the same bed for only a few months after our marriage. It was at that time, only a few weeks after my family had died, that I was told I could not have children. I fell into a deep depression and looked to my husband for support. But instead I found him in bed with another woman. This room has been my prison and my haven since then. The walls are shades of blue with dark mahogany panels, a white bed and sheer white curtains. It was made specifically for me for my love of water. Although I've never seen the ocean, I dream of it, and it's always been my escape.

There is a quiet knock on the door and Valeria, the Avox who has been my servant since I became Mrs. Snow, enters my room. She is pleasant and always wears a closed-lip smile. In a way, she reminds me of my mother.

"Good morning," I smile at her even though I know she cannot speak. "How are you?"

Valeria nods to let me know she is good and points down because breakfast is waiting in the kitchen downstairs. I thank her before heading out. Although I know I can get breakfast very easily in my room, I prefer to get out when I can. She is already hard at work making the bed and straightening up. It used to bother me to have someone cleaning up after me. Now, after so many years of it, I barely even think twice.

Breakfast is quiet with only servants around for company. They are all very nice, but it is only because I am the wife of the President. Coriolanus is nowhere to be found, which is not unusual. He takes most of his meals in his room, mostly, I think, to avoid seeing me.

The television flashes on. It is Caesar Flickerman, talking excitedly. "It's April 1st, and you know what that means, ladies and gentlemen. In only two weeks' time, we will be filming live from all over Panem for the reapings of the 74th Hunger Games! Be sure not to miss a minute!" His trademarked unnaturally white smile stretches across his ageless face, and then he is gone. The tv fades to black. I shake my head and finish eating.

After breakfast, I head out to the garden for a short walk. Around this time of year, my head always gets cluttered with too many thoughts. Besides the impending Hunger Games, it was in May that my family died so many years ago.

My days usually consist of boring and monotonous tasks. I write letters, I read books, I attend lunches and tea parties. Anything outside of the mansion I am forced to have an escort, and for the last eight years that escort has been Ian Sunderling. He is waiting for me as I walk back to the house, a scowl on his face.

"You failed to tell me you were leaving the premises, Mrs. Snow," Ian said, his voice rough. He wears the usual Peacekeeper uniform but with no helmet and a strip of red fabric crossing across his chest, the symbol of the President's personal guards. He is not much older than me, but years of working as a Peacekeeper in the districts aged him. Deep lines cross his brow and cheeks, along with a few scars. Only his eyes remain young. They are a dark green and constantly moving to take in everything around him. Although he can be quite overbearing at times, he is the only person I can talk to honestly and trust that he will do the same.

"Well, I did not leave the premises, Mr. Sunderling, so I was unaware that I needed your assistance," I replied, attempting to breeze past him into the house. He stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

"I hate to disagree with you, but you left the inside of the house. You know you must have an escort for the gardens. We have had that conversation on more than one occasion," Ian said, the sarcasm rich in his tone. I have to smile. It is considered treason to argue with any members of the presidential family, so as much as he doesn't like it, he must abide by the rules. In private, he doesn't watch his words so carefully.

"You're right," I sighed. "Forgive me for making such a deathly mistake as taking a walk to clear my head." I said it playfully, but Ian relaxed and stepped aside. He understands that April is a difficult month for me.

"Just don't let it happen again," he grumbled.

The rest of the day is spent getting ready. Tonight is the annual Spring Ball. Every year on April 1st, all the Capitol's wealthiest citizens and previous winners are invited to the mansion to start the month-long celebration of the Hunger Games. To be a tribute in the Games is heartbreaking, but to win is bliss. Winners become celebrities in the Capitol, and many come several times a year to mingle with the city's elite. This is one event few of them miss.

It's embarrassing to admit that it takes almost eight hours and a parade of stylists to even get a "natural" look for a lavish party, but it's true. First there is the deep scrub shower. Afterwards, a servant towel dries my hair while another one waxes every part of my body. Then I am moisturized from head to toe. My nails are painted. My makeup is done and my hair is curled and pulled up into a fancy style. Finally, my personal stylist, Kane, brings in a custom-made dress and helps me get in it. I only got a small bite to eat for lunch, and by the time Kane brings in my dress, my stomach is growling loudly. He complains about me not eating enough and having to lace up my gown tighter than usual, but I know I will eat more than my share at the feast tonight.

Finally, as darkness falls, I am ready and everyone leaves. I know I must meet my husband soon to go downstairs, but for now, I am alone. I always need the few minutes to prepare myself for seeing Coriolanus and for the act that we both put on. I know he no longer loves me, if he ever really did. He has a constant flow of Capitol women to fulfill his desires, and even when we pass in the mansion, he barely acknowledges me. I fear him, dislike him, but also don't know what I would do without him. So long have I been under his wing of watchfulness and protection that I convince myself I must love him. Because if I don't love him, then there is no more reason to stay. And, simply put, I don't have anywhere else to go.

Kane has dressed me beautifully, as always. My dress is a bright yellow with ruffles from the sleeves down to a low dip in the front. It cinched in my hips but then relaxed into a long and flowing skirt with a small train. My shoes are a small red heel, as I am completely hopeless in anything that is greater than half of inch off the ground. My hair sits a deep side part and pulled in a chignon on the side with some of the front left out and curled loosely. Red lips and shimmery eye shadow completed the look. Even without looking in the mirror, I know my picture will be on the front page of the newspaper tomorrow morning as the best dressed of the evening.

I sigh heavily and stare out the window. The bright lights of the city are mesmerizing. Cars are pulling through the circle driveway of the mansion, and sparkling women and stoic men step out. The party is starting.

A loud knock and Ian steps in. He is out of his uniform and instead dressed in a black and white tuxedo for tonight.

"Wow, you look beautiful," Ian said, his face in awe. He stands uncomfortably but looks quite handsome, despite the fact he obviously dressed himself.

"Well, thank you. You look very nice yourself." I laugh and go over to straighten his bowtie.

"Why does your husband make us wear these outfits for parties?" he asked.

"It's not an outfit, it's a tuxedo. And you know it's so you don't stand out so much," I answered, taking a step back and observing with a smile. "There you go."

"Thanks," Ian smirked, still uncomfortable. He seems to get more tense when I get close to him, so I take a few more steps back.

"I guess it must be time to go," I said, sitting in a chair close to the window, not anxious to see my husband.

Ian nodded. "The President will be here in a few minutes."

We sit there like that in silence, Ian standing by the door, me staring off into nothing in the chair, until a gentle melodious rap comes on the door. President Snow is the only person in the mansion who knocks but does not enter. He waits for someone to answer the door, which Ian does quickly. And then there he is in front of me. Not much of his original features are left as his search for eternal youth has led him to go under the knife numerous times. His lips are too puffy for his face. The black hair has turned to white. The brown eyes which used to be soulful and mysterious are now just cold and calculating. But I open my arms and greet him passionately. There is a white rose on the lapel of his expensive suit, meant to try to cover up the smell of blood from his mouth sores, but it does a terrible job, and instead I get the overpowering odor of both. He kisses me with a closed mouth and wraps me in a hug. Our act begins here. It is not necessary for Ian; he already knows our situation. But it gives us a bit of practice and warming up to each other before facing the prying eyes of Capitol citizens. Orli stands close by, Coriolanus' bodyguard. He is a sour, burly man with a penchant for smoking and cursing, but he's good at his job, and the only guard to last more than a few months watching over the President.

"My dear, you look ravishing," Coriolanus said, a smile creasing his stiff face.

"Thank you," I replied, returning his smile and staring into his eyes.

"Are you ready?" He reaches out his arm, and I place my arm through his.

"As always."

The crowd applauses as we enter, and we give them quite the show. We are holding hands, the glow on our faces supposedly with love for each other. We stay close to each other for a little while, greeting everyone. I laugh at all of his jokes, no matter how unfunny they are. We lean in close to each other and smile and kiss and take pictures like the happy couple we should be. Although I know it's only an act, the way he looks at me makes my heart beat a little faster. It seems so _real_. And it reminds me of when I was 18, newly engaged, and we would take long walks through the city at midnight when no one else was around, just to get away from everything and everybody. Oh, he could melt my heart with a single glance. He would stare into my eyes and say such sweet and wonderful things. I knew that nothing else mattered to him besides being there with me.

After making all the necessary rounds through the ballroom, the President and I split to go our separate ways. Ian follows me as I wind my way through the crowd back to the food and Orli goes with Coriolanus as he makes his way back to the Gamemakers' table.

The wealthiest women in the Capitol are also the most surgically altered and the loudest. They have never wanted for a piece of food and almost all of them are overweight if not obese. Their clothes are large and gaudy. I know I should be more like them as I was raised in the Capitol as well, but for some reason, they all disgust me. They are the fakest people I've ever met, inside and out. But I must be nice to them as their money helps support my husband and our country. So even as they disturb me while I'm trying to eat, I smile and nod enthusiastically to all their silly chatter.

There is a lot of talk about the Hunger Games…what the arena will look like, who the tributes will be, if any of them will ever be as handsome as Finnick Odair was and still is. All the women of the Capitol are in love with the winner of the 65th Hunger Games from District 4. I look over and can see him making the rounds with the wealthiest of the wealthy, kissing hands and cheeks, smiling in a boyish way to charm the women out of their money. I do not like Finnick Odair.

The party seems to drag on endlessly. It is early morning by now, and yet some of the guests are still drinking and eating and having fun. My eyelids are heavy, and as I sit alone at a long table, my head propped up on my hand, I wish I could just go to sleep. Coriolanus has long since disappeared, so it is up to me to entertain the remaining partiers, although I gave up pretending to care after they all got too drunk to notice. Ian was standing close by, but even he is starting to tire. He leans against the wall now, massaging his neck with his hands, his head tilted up.

I am startled when the chair scrapes next to me. My eyes snap to meet the sea green ones of Finnick. He sits down close to me, leaning in so his face is only inches from mine.

"So why is it that the most beautiful woman at the party is sitting all alone?" he asked. His breath wreaks of alcohol.

"Well, I see that you have been having a good time," I answered, crossing my arms across my chest.

"Yes, yes I have," Finnick laughed. "You know, I could give you a good time, too. The best night of your life, actually, if you let me."

He was so close he was practically whispering in my ear, his voice low, but a cocky smile plastered on his tanned face.

"You have had too much to drink, Mr. Odair, and I believe it would be a good idea for you to retire to bed before you make an even bigger fool of yourself," I replied, my voice as low as his but anger boiling just under the surface.

Finnick merely smiled more, however, and placed an arm around my shoulders. "I bet you have a lot of good secrets. That's the only form of payment I receive, you see. Secrets." His eyes lit up every time he said the word. Then he threw back his head and laughed loudly. "Or do you already have your list of chosen men like your husband has his women?"

I stood up quickly, my chair clattering to the floor. Several people looked over at me, but none were interested enough to pay much attention. Ian was at my side in an instant, a protective hand on my elbow, the other separating me and Finnick. It felt like a fire was burning underneath my skin and my face was red hot. How dare this man say such things? Of course I knew about the other women, but Finnick had absolutely no right to imply that I would do the same. And how did he even have knowledge of that to begin with?

"Party's over, Mr. Odair," Ian said, his tone even and unchanging.

"Yes, I was just getting ready to leave," Finnick said, standing slowly before sauntering unsteadily out of the ballroom.

Ian watched him until he was completely out of sight. I was still standing, shaking from the anger pulsing through my veins. "Are you going to be ok?" he asked, shifting his attention to me.

I take a minute to get my breathing under control. "Yes, I will be fine," I finally answered. "Please tell the President that I have gone to bed."

Ian nodded, his eyes full of questions and concerns, but he let me go without saying a word, walking several feet behind me to make sure I made it back to my room safely.


	3. Chapter 2

_Thank you so much for your reviews, **Luke777 **and** ALK**! To answer your questions..._

_Luke777: This is not going to be an alternate universe. The books were awesome as far as I was concerned, and I don't really feel the need the change them in any way. I just got the idea for this character and thought it might be an interesting side to the story._

_ALK: Analeigh does not know what her husband makes Finnick do. Or, if she does know, she chooses to ignore it. There are a lot of things she chooses not to see as you will hopefully pick up on in the next few chapters. But there is also more of Finnick later, so I hope you enjoy that!_

_I hope you like the next chapter, and please review!_

**Chapter 2**

I am choking. My throat is clogged with a thick smoke. I can't breathe, can't see, can't think. My whole body trembles. I am trying to reach the door but it is always just out of my reach.

And suddenly I am awake, gasping for air. The sun is pouring through my window, the sounds of a busy day filtering into my room. I look over and see Valeria beside the bed, her face sympathetic, her arm still outstretched from attempting to shake me awake. The nightmares have returned.

I quickly get out of bed and rush to the bathroom, throwing cold water on my face. I'm sweating, the hair stuck to my forehead. My heart is racing, my lungs still screaming for air although there is plenty. I take a long, slow breath and stare at myself in the mirror. My cheeks are hollow and pale. My hair is a complete mess. My stylists will surely complain loudly about my appearance and how much work they have to do. But they must do a great job because tonight is the parade of the 24 tributes for all the Capitol to see, and I will be beside my husband in a seat of honor.

The day goes by in a blur. I don't remember much and really could care less. It's just another event for the Capitol people to get excited about. Panem et circenses. Bread and circuses, what our country is named after. My husband is the best at giving this city both. Before I know it, I am in front of the entire country and the President is rising to give his speech. I realize I didn't even pay attention to the parade, although that's not necessarily unusual. For me, it's better to completely ignore the tributes. They are just going to die anyway, so it's best not to remember their faces. The televisions run 24 hours a day during this time of year, and although I am forced to watch the reapings, I can almost tune the games out completely. One of the good things about being left completely alone, I suppose. Ian keeps me updated on the major events so I can effectively carry on a conversation with other Capitol citizens, but mostly I hide out in the gardens or the city library.

They keep showing two of the tributes, though, on the large screen overlooking the square. Even during my husband's speech, there are their faces. I look down at the chariots in front of me and see it is the District 12 tributes. That is not a district typically known to create excitement. But this boy and girl are exquisite, holding hands, smiling, and fire billowing out from their costumes. I remember their reapings. The girl…Katniss Everdeen. She volunteered to be a tribute in the place of her sister.

I lean back in my chair, hating myself for remembering this. Now, I know her name and her face and a story about her life, and it's going to be that much harder when I hear that she has died. But, I suppose for her it is better this way. How I wish a thousand times over that it had been me in the fire instead of my sisters. It's much better to be the one leaving this world than the one left behind.

* * *

The city library is my favorite place outside of the gardens. I walk in and wave a quick hello to the aging librarian. His white hair falls into his eyes but he pushes down his glasses and nods to me before returning to his book. There is a room all the way in the back which must be from the original structure built before the Dark Days. Not many buildings survived the first war and what did was often so destabilized that they were torn down. But somehow, this room was left completely intact and the rest of the library was built around it. It holds some of my favorite and most interesting books. I think the rest of Panem has forgotten this place even exists or else most of these books would be burned.

There isn't any electricity in this room, and the only light comes from a single window close to the ceiling. It's dusty and smells of mildew, but I inhale deeply. Everything here is familiar and yet untouched. It's the one place I know for sure I am not watched or listened to. I linger at the tall, unsteady bookshelves, pondering over which book should be my next conquest. Some of the books are so old and yellowed they look like they might crumble at any moment. Finally, I choose one. One that I have looked at for a long time but feared to read even in this dimly lit room. To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee. I see on the front cover that it won the Pulitzer Prize, and although I don't know what that means, I know it must have been a much revered book before the fall of the world.

I sit down at the square wooden table in the center of the room. My chair squeaks and leans to the left as I sit, but it is comfortable enough. Soon, I am lost in the town of Maycomb, Alabama and the stories of Scout, Jem, Dill, and Atticus. My eyes only move from the pages of the book when Ian pulls it down from my face. I open my mouth to complain, but quickly notice the light in the room is getting dim. It must be late afternoon. I carefully place the book back on the shelf, never daring to carry it home with me, before letting Ian lead me away.

That evening in my room, the television is still showing replays of last night. I watch all the tributes with interest this time and the crowd's reaction to each of them. District 12 received the most cheers by a long shot. They were also the only tributes holding hands instead of ignoring each other. I wonder if it was just a trick for more sponsors or if they wanted to of their own accord. As they pull away and the camera returns to my husband and I on the balcony, I see something in his eyes that I did not see the previous night. A burning fire in those usually cold eyes, practically staring down the District 12 tributes. I can't imagine what he sees in them that makes him hate them so much. It's as if he knows something that I do not.

* * *

The week goes by slowly. Again I am in front of the crowd for the tribute interviews, and I put on the act I always do. I smile, I wave, I pretend to be interested in what each of them are saying. But it's only something I've perfected through years of practice. I start to pay attention only when the crowd starts making a fuss about the male District 12 tribute. He has declared his love for his district partner, Katniss. The crowd goes crazy for the star-crossed lovers but I am not impressed. I've seen many tricks to get sympathy and therefore more sponsors. This is the most original idea, but it is still just a ruse. I remember them holding hands during the parade. They are very smart…or very well prepped. I wish I still believed in true love, but I look over at my husband, smiling handsomely, his hand clasped protectively over mine, and know that I simply don't anymore. I lean over and place a soft kiss on his cheek to bury those thoughts lest they show on my face.

The Hunger Games start on April 21st. It's the only chatter I hear outside the mansion. I'm actually thankful for the Avox servants and their inability to speak just so I don't have to hear about it anymore.

Every spare moment I get I am in the library. In the stories of Tom Robinson and Boo Radley and how they are perceived by the children, I can't help but see the faces of the tributes. I wonder how they see us.

Ian keeps me informed while having the decency to be brief about it, and day after day, I hear that both the tributes from District 12 are still alive. Coriolanus was having many long, private discussions with Seneca Crane, the head Gamemaker, and I believe most of them involved the supposed star-crossed lovers. They had numerous admirers in the Capitol and were creating quite a buzz. And it seemed that the more attention they received, the more disheveled and angry the President got. I would catch glimpses of him stalking through the mansion, his shirt untucked and his hair in tangles. Ever a man of appearances, it scared me to see him like that.

One day, Caesar Flickerman came onto the television with his dazzling smile and announced that if two tributes from the same district were the last remaining survivors, they would both be declared winners. And for the first time in almost 18 years, I sit down and watch the Hunger Games.


	4. Chapter 3

_So incredibly grateful to the reviewer Luke777. This chapter is for you! And if others like it as well, please review. It makes me happy :)_

**Chapter** 3

There is a gentle knock and the door silently opens. It is midmorning and I don't receive many visitors during this time of day. I look up from my writing desk where I have been writing a response to one of the many letters that I receive every day. A young messenger walks in carrying a single white envelope. He hands it to me before bowing slightly and leaving as quietly as he entered. I took a look at the envelope and see my husband's handwriting on the outside in a beautiful cursive, _Analeigh Snow. _I quickly open it and see it is an invitation to lunch in the sunroom with him. It is strange for him to invite me to dine with him, especially with everything that happened this past week, but I barely have time to think about it before Valeria enters to help me get ready.

The Hunger Games ended six days ago. I was watching along with the rest of the Capitol as Katniss and Peeta lifted the nightlock berries to their mouths to commit suicide rather than have to kill each other to become the victor. It was a terrible trick by the Gamemakers…to promise that both would survive only to retract their statement. And perhaps these were just two young people in love who could not survive without each other. But I saw something else in their actions that day: defiance. And I know my husband saw it, too.

All of the city has been a whirlwind of activity since then. The winners gave their final interviews as star-crossed lovers and headed back to District 12, but that hasn't stopped the partying here. It will last another week or so before everything finally calms down.

I suppose I showed more interest than I usually did. I attended the final taped interviews of my own accord. I spoke enthusiastically and offered cautious praise for the victorious tributes to other Capitol women. I never thought much of it. But after the disappearance of Seneca Crane and the deaths of several other prominent citizens who spoke too highly of the latest winners of the Hunger Games, I wished I had watched my words more carefully.

Just as Valeria helps me slip into my shoes, Ian enters.

"What are you doing here? I'm just going to meet Coriolanus in the sunroom," I smiled, surprised but not unhappy.

Ian nodded, a grim look on his face. "I would just prefer to accompany you, Mrs. Snow, if that's okay."

I shrugged. "It's fine."

Coriolanus is waiting for me as I arrive. He gives a confused look to Ian but wraps me in a hug. I stiffly return it. It's strange to share affection when nobody who cares is watching, and this is out of my husband's character.

"Ah, my darling, thank you for coming on such short notice. Please sit down." The President holds out a chair and I sit across from him. Ian takes up a post behind me along the wall. The table is small, enough for four people, and is a white wicker. The entire south wall is full of windows, and sun radiates through the room. The gardens are in full bloom and are as beautiful as ever. This was the room we were married in, and it's one of my favorites in the whole mansion.

"So, how have you been?" Coriolanus asked, sipping his tea. There is a cup in front of me also, but I feel too warm for hot tea. I pick at the bread in the center of the table instead.

"I've been good. How have you been?" Such a normal question for what is supposed to be a normal activity. But nothing about this seems ordinary.

"I've been…fair," the President answered, choosing his words carefully. "Did you enjoy the Hunger Games?"

"I enjoyed parts of it," I said, also being very careful in choosing my words.

Two servants enter bearing dishes full of a lamb and carrot stew. It smells wonderful. I immediately pick up my spoon and start eating it.

We share small talk for a short while, talking of very unimportant things. I eat hungrily while my husband gingerly takes only a few bites and sips his tea.

"How is your tea, darling?" Coriolanus asked suddenly.

My mouth is still full of stew. It takes me a few seconds to swallow, and in that time, Ian has come to my side.

"The tea has cooled down, too much, hasn't it? I will go get a fresh batch," Ian said quickly. Before I could protest, he has scooped up the tea in front of me and hurried away. Coriolanus is staring him down, his slanted eyes even smaller. Ian returns quickly, two servants following him closely carrying a pitcher of hot tea and two tall glasses. They start to pour us both a glassful.

"Ah, I just remembered I have a meeting to attend to. I'm so sorry for cutting our lunch short, darling." Coriolanus stands abruptly. He rounds the table and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek before heading off.

The strange encounter leaves me puzzled, and I realize I have lost my appetite. I eat a few more spoonfuls before pushing my bowl away. Something seems incredibly…off, but I can't quite put my finger on it.

"Mr. Sunderling, let's take a walk in the gardens." Ian nods and opens the door for me as I walk passed him.

I sit down on a stone bench towards the back wall. The aroma of flowers is heavy but sweet. The air is warm and a cool breeze lifts my hair. I pat the cold stone and scoot over for Ian to sit next to me. He does so somewhat unwillingly, his back rigid.

"What do you think that was?" I asked, staring back towards the house.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Mrs. Snow," Ian answered slowly.

"Nothing about that seemed strange to you?"

Ian looks over at me, his eyes full of something that he wants to say but cannot. A bird chirps overhead. I remember the jabberjays the Capitol created long ago and how they could record whole conversations. There must be ears even in the garden.

"Oh well," I smiled, standing up. "Such a wonderful lunch, though."

As we walk through the mansion, Ian stays close behind me. We have just rounded the top of the stairs and entered the narrow hallway leading past many empty rooms until mine at the end when Ian grabs my arm and pulls me back.

"What are you doing?" I asked angrily as he flings me into a small hall closet, full of sheets and towels. His face almost looks crazy with intensity, his eyes maniacal, staring deep into me. He grabs my shoulders so hard that it hurts. I try to wrench away from his grasp, but he only holds on tighter.

"You know what that was back there. The President has kept you around for this long only because you make him look good. You have kept your head down and your mouth shut, too, which was smart. But your usefulness has run out to him. You're not safe anymore, Analeigh."

"Let go of me," I said, barely even paying attention to what he said, still in shock that he had thrown me in a closet.

"Open your eyes! It's time to wake up to everything that is going on around you!" Ian is nearly yelling at me, shaking my shoulders with each word. I have never had anyone raise their voice to me, much less lay a hand on me in such a way. A fury rises inside me I never knew.

"Let go of me!" Ian has a tight grip on my shoulders, but in a single move, I lift my right arm and slap him across the face as hard I can. It makes a satisfying smacking sound in the small closet. He turns away for a moment, his jaw clenched, but when he faces me again, his eyes have calmed and he releases his grasp.

"Don't you ever put your hands on me again," I hissed, a power behind my words that have never come from me. "I will remind you only this once that I am the wife of Coriolanus Snow, the President of all of Panem, and you must treat me as such. If you refuse, then I will turn you in myself." I see his shoulders slump and a look of defeat wash across his face as I push pass him and stomp back to my room.


	5. Chapter 4

_Yay! Thank you all so much for reviewing! Shamalamadingdongs,FinnickMellark4, sghope16, and Luke777, you all are so very awesome. I would answer your comments and questions, but I feel that most of them will be answered in the next couple of chapters. As to continued questions about Analeigh's reactions, she is still a Capitol girl, so I hope you all keep that in mind. Enjoy!_

**Chapter** 4

Weeks go by, and then months. Summer is hot and heavy, and the only relief is to stay in the mansion with the air conditioning. I finished my book but decided not to read another one yet as it was much too hot in that tiny back room of the library. Ian and I do not talk much, and neither do Coriolanus and I. Life seems to go back to normal.

However, behind closed doors, I can hear the reports. Reports not meant for my ears but the mansion can be a terribly small place when trying to keep secrets. Rebellions are happening all over the country. District 8 is in a full blown revolution. District 11 is ready to erupt at any time, and several others are close to the brink. It puts an edge in the air I have never felt.

I try not to think about that spring day in the sunroom. If I were to be honest with myself, I knew what had happened, what could still be happening in the near future. But just like with everything else in my life that I don't know how to deal with, I bury it. There's a lot I have buried over the years.

As the air starts to cool, I am thankful for the relief. The Capitol is already starting to buzz with the anticipation of the Victor's Tour and seeing how the star-crossed lovers have come along, but I am just grateful to be able to hide out in the library again.

It's my first journey back in over three months. I walk quickly through the streets but take time to pause at a park not far from the mansion to watch the children play. It always makes me smile to see them…their faces flush with activity, their laughter filling my empty heart in a way nothing else can.

I see Ian out of the corner of my eye. I haven't been able to look at him straight on since I slapped him. A part of me feels I owe him an apology, but the majority is too proud, so mostly I just ignore him. However, he isn't looking at me now so I feel free to stare. He is watching the children also, a slight smile playing at his lips. I've never seen Ian smile, and it makes me curious if he's ever wanted a family. Peacekeepers aren't allowed to marry, but it makes me feel selfish that I've never even thought about it before.

The librarian gives me his usual nod although I notice he stares a bit longer. I assume it's because I haven't visited in awhile, but as I reach the back room, my secret haven, I understand why. At the table where I've spent hours hunched over my latest book sit two figures. Their faces are lost in shadows, the lone window casting the only light on their backs. But they stand as I enter, and as I get a good look at them, I want to turn and run. It's the new head Gamemaker, Plutarch Heavensbee, and Finnick Odair.

I look over at Ian, who must have seen the panic in my face. He gives a reassuring nod and closes the door behind us.

"Mrs. Snow, I hope you don't mind our intrusion," Plutarch said, bowing slightly. "Please have a seat."

There is a chair opposite from the two men at the table. It is newer with heavy padding. They must have brought it in here just for our encounter. I can't help but feel violated in a way. This was my private space, the only spot I truly had all to myself. They have invaded it…and Ian must have known. In fact, he had to be the one who told them about this room. I give him an angry glance before facing the two intruders.

"I would prefer to stand, Mr. Heavensbee," I replied.

Finnick hasn't said anything yet. He shifts back and forth on his feet nervously and keeps his eyes on the floor.

Plutarch nods his head, the smile on his chubby face not moving. "Very well, then. I suppose you must be wondering what we are doing here."

"Yes, I was wondering why you invited yourselves to a meeting when you are not welcome." I force my voice to sound more menacing than I feel.

The head Gamemaker's smile starts to fade a bit. He dabs his forehead with a handkerchief. The small room tends to retain the heat, and it is getting rather warm. I cross my arms across my chest anyway.

"Well, uh…I really think it would be better if you sit, Mrs. Snow."

I shake my head. "Not until you tell me why you and Mr. Odair are here."

"You are in danger, Mrs. Snow," Finnick finally sputtered, lifting his head. "You need our help and you can help us."

I frown, not knowing how to interpret his statement or how to respond. I glance over at Ian again, confusion on my face. But he only nods again, his face unreadable.

"I don't know what you mean," I said.

"Nearly the entire country is in rebellion. Surely you've heard the reports. There are plans for a…takeover," Plutarch answered anxiously, his sweating growing more profuse.

"A what?"

"District 13 has survived and is planning to take control of the Capitol." Finnick's words hit me hard. The air seems to be getting too thin and the room starts to spin. I reach out and Ian grabs my hand, leading me to the chair. I sit down willingly, and Plutarch and Finnick look relieved to be able to do the same.

I prop my head up on my hands, looking down, wishing the wood was smoother against my elbows, but at least I feel less dizzy. "I don't understand what you are saying. There is no more District 13. They were obliterated during the Dark Days."

"That's what your husband wants you to think," Finnick whispered, leaning in.

"They live underground now, but they are growing stronger," Plutarch added.

"I don't understand, I don't understand…" I muttered to myself, closing my eyes. I sit there for a few minutes, still and silent, letting what they had told me sink in. Finally I lift my head.

"Why are you telling me this? What do you want from me?"

Plutarch coughed nervously, but Finnick was seeming to get his strength back.

"If the rebellion is to survive, we need people on the inside. We need you, Mrs. Snow, to gather intelligence from the mansion and from your husband and send it to the rebels in District 13."

I start to laugh. The two men across from me look startled, but I can't help it. I throw my head back and laugh loudly. It was so funny that they would come to me with this offer.

"And why would I do a thing like that?"

"Your husband is planning to kill you. Surely you are aware of that," Finnick said, anger rising in his voice.

"Of course I am aware. But what can you offer me? A real reason for him to want me dead?" My laughter slows, but I occasionally giggle at their seriousness. It still seems like a joke to me.

"We can get you out of here safely. And we can offer you justice," Plutarch said softly.

"Justice for what?"

"For the death of your family."

There is no more giggling. Plutarch's statement hangs heavily. The older man nods towards Finnick, and I realize that's why he is here. Finnick is here to convince me with his stories.

"Mrs. Snow, I know you may not believe me, but I am not the man you think I am," Finnick started, taking a deep breath. "I am forced to…play nicely…with the wealthy Capitol women by your husband. He forces me to do so to keep them happy. When I told you that the only payment I receive is secrets, it was the truth. The women often tell me things they tell no one else. And one of those women is the wife of the fire chief for the Capitol."

He pauses and glances up at me to make sure I am listening. I wait anxiously for him to continue.

"She told me about something her husband did many years ago when he had just been promoted. How he never felt right about it but it was an order direct from the President."

Finnick pauses again. "Go on," I said quickly.

"He was asked to turn off the fire safety systems for one particular house. She told me that he didn't understand why he was doing it at the time, but the next morning he heard a fire had started in that house and everyone died. A husband, a wife, and two daughters."

I shake my head, refusing to let any tears fall. "No, no, that's not true. Coriolanus…he told me the houses didn't have a fire safety system. He sent out the squad that installed them right after it happened. I saw them myself."

"Yes, they installed the systems in the older homes. But your family was moved to a newer home right after you were married, if I am correct," Plutarch said.

He was right. They were moved into a brand new home close to the mansion within a month of my marriage to the President. But what these two men were telling me could not be the truth. I couldn't believe it, wouldn't believe it.

"No," I said again, the tears starting to fall. "It's not true."

Finnick reaches across the table and grabs my hand. "It is true, Mrs. Snow. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, but your husband had your family killed."

"Don't let their deaths continue to be in vain. Now is your chance to step up and bring justice for them and many other people. You could help make this country right again," Plutarch said, his handkerchief now soaked completely with sweat, but he continues to dab at his face with it.

I quickly pull my hand away from Finnick and stand up. It is all too much to take in at one time, and all I can feel is the anger. Plutarch and Finnick look at me expectantly, waiting for me to say something.

"I will not be a traitor, nor some pawn in your game," I said in a low voice. "Now leave, and hope with all your might that I am feeling gracious enough to not tell my husband what you are planning when I return home."


	6. Chapter 5

_Again, thank you to Luke777 and sghope16 for reviewing! I very much appreciate your comments. I hope you enjoy the next chapter!_

**Chapter 5**

I retreat within myself again. Shortly after the two men left quietly, I left the tiny room, knowing I could never return. It would always be tainted with their memory now. Ian didn't say anything to me, and for that, I was grateful. I fear that if he had even uttered a sound, a free flow of words from my mouth would cause irreparable damage to him and me.

My bed was the only comfort I found. I laid down and didn't get up for several days. I cried a lot, mostly for myself and the hopelessness I felt, and other times for my lost family. I hadn't cried in a long time, and once the aching pain went away, I actually felt better than I had in awhile.

Finally, I pick myself up. I roll out of bed and shower, fix my hair, and even apply a bit of makeup. Valeria enters and looks honestly relieved and happy to see me up and about. I give her a smile small.

I spend a few days readjusting myself to the land of the living. I leave my room to take my meals again, doing my best to avoid my husband. The gardens are not as vibrant as they were in the spring, but they still offer a nice retreat. Slowly, I feel normal again.

The letters never stop coming, and they were still delivered to my room even during my recent bout of depression. There is a large pile now sitting on my desk. I've been wandering around aimlessly for two days now, and seeing nothing better to do, I sit down and begin flipping through them.

Most are from Capitol citizens as they usually are. I keep looking through them, searching for something that might be interesting. And towards the bottom of the stack, I see one that catches my eye.

The handwriting is large and printed with a heavy hand, almost like a child wrote it. It's simply addressed to Mrs. Snow, and there is no return address. I rip open the envelope and unfold the single piece of yellowed paper.

_Dear Mrs. Snow,_

_My name is Ingris Winters. I live in District 11. Rue was my friend, and I was very sad when she died. I cried a lot for her._

_I've seen you on the tv, and you look very nice. Also, you are very pretty! I was wondering if you could talk to the President about some things. We are good people here in District 11. We work hard and do what we are told. But the peacekeepers are very mean. Could they maybe be a bit nicer? Also could you talk to him about the Hunger Games? My parents are very scared for me and my brothers. I don't like to see them scared._

_I hope you are as nice as you look._

_Sincerely,_

_Ingris Winters_

_Age 9_

_PS, Please don't tell my parents I wrote this letter. They would be very upset!_

I lean back in my chair, hardly able to believe what I just read. It was a simple and crude letter, yet more touching and heartfelt than any other letter I have ever received. I immediately pull out a blank sheet of paper and my pen, only to remember there was no return address. Even if I wrote a beautiful letter in response, I wouldn't know where to mail it. I checked the date of the stamp and saw it was mailed back in May. Why did it take so long to reach me? District 11 is quite far, I can imagine, but it's September now. This poor girl probably thinks I didn't even read her letter.

Determined not to give up and happy to finally have a purpose, I get up and head to a rarely used stairwell and down several flights of stairs. There is an archive in the basement that keeps records of all the citizens of Panem. Surely with her first and last name and district, I can find this young girl's address.

It gets cooler the deeper in the ground I go. The stairwell is made from smooth rocks, and I trace my fingers along them as I carefully make my way down. I have only been down to the basement twice in my years here in the mansion, and this is my first journey by myself. It isn't lit well, and shadows exist around every corner. The front two rooms are filled mostly with furniture that has been cycled out of use from rooms upstairs. Couches, chairs, dressers, bed frames, all now sit in odd arrangements covered by heavy dust. If you let your imagination run away from you, it's easy to imagine ghosts of previous residents having parties down here.

I find my way to a smaller room towards the back. There are boxes everywhere, stacked along the walls all the way to the ceiling. The President likes to keep records on everyone in his country but failed to put anyone in charge of maintaining all of these records, so this is what has happened over the years. The most recent census documents sit on the floor closest to the door. I find the one from District 11 and flip it open. However, inside is not what I expected. It is not simply names, addresses, occupation, number of children, etc., that I hoped to find. Instead, I see name hundreds of names, dates, and such things as "Cursing the President" and "Hiding weapons". I check the top of the first page and see no heading. But after looking at page after page after page, I begin to understand. These are death lists.

I inhale sharply. There is a box from each district. I hurriedly throw the top off each one and see the same thing. Hundreds of pages with thousands of names. All killed for supposed rebel activity.

Sitting on the dusty floor, my mind goes numb. Did Coriolanus know about this? Of course he did. He was probably the one who gave the orders for all these murders. Some of the reasons were cause for severe punishment, but most were innocent. Most wouldn't even be reason for a lashing. Most revolved around the townspeople asking for more food.

I remember the letter and Ingris mentioning how mean the Peacekeepers are. In the Capitol, Peacekeepers are no more than decoration. They stand at entryways and on corners acting as guards, but don't really do anything. The people here eat as much as they want, some actually throwing up so they can eat more. I've seen the children from the Districts year after year as they come to the Capitol for the Hunger Games. How did I not notice that they were malnourished, starving even?

Even in this dark, cold place, the answer comes. I never noticed because I never paid attention. In my own selfishness, I never saw their suffering.

I put my head in my hands. My blue dress is covered with dirt, but the silk underneath the grime still shines. I remember the tributes from this year at their reapings. All dressed in their best, but their best being barely something I would dress a dog in.

Suddenly, another thought occurs to me. There is a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach, but I do not allow myself to give into it until I know for sure. I search the lists from District 11, and several pages in, my fears are only confirmed. There is her name.

Ingris Winters May 28 Complaints against the President


	7. Chapter 6

_Thank you so very much to Luke777, sghope16, and CJstoriesandobsessions for reviewing, your thoughts, and your encouragement. I hope you enjoy this chapter. It was one of my favorites to write. _

_I guess I'm going to pull a Stephanie Meyer and tell you that I was listening to a certain song pretty much the whole time I was writing this story: Cosmic Love by Florence + The Machine. It seems to fit the mood I was trying to evoke. Enjoy!_

**Chapter 6**

I don't really know how I ended up in the park, or how long I was there. The next moment after leaving the basement that my brain captured was of Ian walking towards me, the sun setting as he came to sit beside me.

"You've caused quite the panic in the mansion, you know, with your disappearance act." He has a gentle smile, and I know he is not mad at me even though he should be. I look up at him, my heart heavy. I don't have a smile to return and instead turn away.

Ian sighs heavily. He follows my gaze to the children who are still playing in the coming twilight.

"So innocent, aren't they?" he asked. He's not one to make small talk, and I know he is only trying to make me feel better.

"If only they knew, huh?" I replied. My voice sounds foreign to me.

Ian looks over at me again. His face is sympathetic, caring even. "I read the letter open on your desk. I figured I knew where you might go if you wanted to write back and found the open boxes in the basement. I…I'm sorry, Mrs. Snow."

I nod numbly. "She was too young to die."

"Yes, yes she was."

We sit in silence for a long time. The sun continues to go down and the children all go home. It is just the two of us out here now. Usually Ian would be pushing me to get home, to "safety", but tonight he says nothing. We watch the stars as they come out. It's a beautiful, clear night with a warm breeze.

"Where are you from, Mr. Sunderling?"

"I'm from the Capitol, Mrs. Snow."

"No, I mean…before. Before you were a Peacekeeper. Where were you from?"

He doesn't like the question, I can tell that. He's never once talked about anything from the past, but he doesn't object. After a long pause and a deep sigh, he speaks.

"I'm originally from District 4."

A small smile creases my lips. "Same as Finnick Odair. I wouldn't have guessed."

"Yes, well, Mr. Odair and I are a little different." Ian smiles in return, looking at his hands. "And I am quite a bit older than him."

"Did you live by the ocean?" I stare into his eyes, the dark green catching a bit of the light from a nearby street lamp and dancing lightly. They are not sea-green like most from District 4, but no less beautiful.

"Yes, we lived very close. My dad was a fisherman, like most others in the district."

"Is it wonderful? The ocean?"

Ian is looking into the distance, smiling as the memories come racing back. "Yes, it's as wonderful as you have heard. Waves crash against sandy beaches where you can walk barefoot for miles. The water is clear all the way to the bottom and a blue green that can't even be put into words."

"When did you last see it?"

His smile fades and he starts to shift uncomfortably. "When I was eight. That's when my parents died and I was shipped off to an orphanage."

Sadness fills me for him. "Oh, I'm so sorry," I said, my face falling. "How did they die?"

"Pneumonia."

I think of all the medicine we have to treat pneumonia here in the Capitol. I start to ask him about it, but I understand now that the medicine would never be readily available to the districts. And even if it was, it would probably be too expensive for a commoner to buy it.

"I'm sorry," I said again, knowing my words would never do anything to help heal the wounds.

Ian shrugs. "It was a long time ago."

"How did you become a Peacekeeper?"

"It was decided in the orphanage. Easiest way to get rid of me, I guess."

"And you were sent to the Capitol after that?"

"I spent some time in District 6 before being shipped here."

He won't look at me. I wonder if I pushed him too far, asked him too much, but I am so happy that he shared bits of his life with me. All those times I felt alone, I now understood that he had felt the same way.

"Thank you for sharing," I said, hoping he can feel the honesty in my voice, but he only nods and continues to stare into the distance.

"Our stories are not all that different, I guess," I continued, just wanting to fill the silence.

"Oh, trust me, our stories are very, very different, Mrs. Snow," Ian laughs. "I am not the man you think I am. And you…you are the wife of the President. Our lives have always been on different paths."

"And yet here we are…sitting together on a park bench."

Ian cocks his head to the side, thinking, before laughing again. "I guess you have me there."

Clouds slowly cross over the moon, and a soft wind blows my hair across my face. I hadn't even fixed it this morning, and it hangs in wavy strands down my back. I push a few locks behind my ears.

"Why did Coriolanus kill my family?" I asked softly.

"I thought you might ask me this one day," Ian smiles grimly before turning his attention to his hands. "Your husband likes to have complete control. As long as you had your family to run back to, he couldn't efficiently control you." Ian's voice is monotonous, no emotion running through it.

"So…they were just in the way to him, huh?" It's something I had always guessed but never allowed myself to dwell on.

Ian nods slowly.

I look up at the night sky, the hot tears slowly sliding down my face. "I've been so stupid."

"No, you can't believe that," Ian said quickly, turning his whole body to face me. "You are not stupid."

"How am I not? I'm married to a monster, and yet I have defended him for all these years. I could have done something to stop him..."

"You did what you needed to do to survive."

"I did what I needed to do? You make it sound like I'm heroic," I laugh, wiping the tears away. "No, it was not about surviving. It was about denial. And fear."

"You are stronger than you give yourself credit for," Ian said.

I shake my head, giving him a small smile. "I am not the woman you think I am," I replied, reiterating his words from earlier.

"You are every bit the woman I think you are." The words seem to escape before he can control them, and Ian turns away, his face a bright red even in the darkness.

There is a long pause, and though several thoughts flash across my mind, I do not allow them to take hold. I simply can't. I am a married woman, and Ian is my bodyguard. Nothing more. He is obviously ashamed he even allowed such a slip of the tongue, and we both know it's best to ignore it.

"You think I should join the rebellion," I said.

"I don't care one way or the other. I only care about keeping you safe." His voice is soft.

"Then why did you arrange the meeting with Plutarch and Finnick?"

"Plutarch came to me and asked me where you hide out sometimes. He only told me that he and Finnick had some things to talk to you about."

"You trust him, then," I said.

Ian glanced over at me. "Mr. Heavensbee? Why do you say that?"

"Because you let him come to meet me in a dark room without knowing what he wanted. Or else," I chuckle, "your skills as my personal guard have severely diminished."

He smiles, thank goodness, seeing the joke for what it is. "I don't know if I trust Plutarch."

"Then why?"

"I trust Finnick."

I can't believe what I have just heard. I furrow my brow and frown. "Finnick? Really?"

Ian shrugs. "He's a good guy."

"You can't honestly believe what he said that day…" I start to say, but the look on Ian's face tells me that he does. I lean back thoughtfully. I don't trust Finnick, but I do trust Ian, so perhaps I should give Mr. Odair another chance.

"Ok, fair enough," I nod my head. "So, in your honest opinion, what is the best way to keep me safe?"

Ian laughs, running his hands through his hair. "That is a very good question."

"It sort of seems like die here as loyal to Coriolanus or die as a rebel trying to take him down," I sigh, my shoulders suddenly feeling very heavy. "Sounds to me like it can't be about staying safe."

Ian is looking at me, his head cradled in his hands, a thoughtful expression on his face. He knows I have made up my mind.

"It can't be about me anymore. I've been selfish for too long. It has to start being about all the people of Panem, like it should have been all along. I can't sit here and do nothing anymore." I said, my voice firm but apologetic. "I understand if you resign your position tomorrow morning."

I wish it could be different, but this is not a decision that affects only me. If I am ever found out, Ian would die also, and most likely suffer a harsher death. As a Peacekeeper, he has sworn an allegiance to the President…not to me.

"My job is to protect you, Mrs. Snow, and that is what I will continue to do."

His voice is unwavering, his face is calm, his eyes are determined. He is just as ready as I am. And although I am still frightened by this new direction, I feel much better knowing that Ian is by my side.

"Well then," I said with a slight smile, rising slowly to my feet, "I guess I will see you tomorrow."


	8. Chapter 7

_Thank you so much for the continued reviews: Luke777, sghope16, and CJstoriesandobsessions! I absolutely adore your feedback, and believe it or not, although the story is finished, try to incorporate it if it fits with the rest of the story. Thank you all so much!_

**Chapter 7**

At first, I didn't think I could really be of much use to the rebels. But as the mission became clearer, I knew why they needed me. I was the only person who had access, besides my husband, to all parts of the mansion with no questions asked. There wasn't much going on inside its walls that I didn't know about or couldn't find out about it with a little digging.

Everything was sent through Plutarch to make it harder to trace back to me. Although I still don't know how to feel about him personally, he's been reliable as a source of information so far. Despite never wanting to return to the forgotten room in the back of the library, it's the only safe place in the Capitol for us now, so we meet there at least once a week.

Time is passing quicker now. Although I understood that what I was doing was very dangerous, it made me feel more alive than I had in nearly 20 years. I had a purpose, something worth believing in. Before I knew it, the reunion tour was finishing and Katniss and Peeta were back in the Capitol. And I was face to face with the ones who had started all of this.

* * *

"Congratulations." My voice seems shaky. Am I…nervous? Yes, I am nervous, although I don't know why. I am the wife of the President of Panem, and yet I am nervous to meet two teenagers. They both smile politely and shake my hand.

"Thank you. We are very excited," Peeta answered, his grin spreading across his whole face. He seems honest.

"When will the wedding be?"

"We just got engaged, we haven't really had a chance to discuss wedding plans," Katniss answered quickly. Her smile is forced, her politeness with a sharp edge. She doesn't like me.

"Yes, of course." My smile seems weak, and I understand why she doesn't like me. It's because she has no reason to. She believes me to be one of _them_. I am the wife of the man who is holding her in this star-crossed lovers act on the belief it will quell the growing rebellion. I wish I can tell her the truth, but there is no way. Not now, maybe not ever.

"It's a pleasure to finally get to meet you. They show you all the time on the television, and you are even more beautiful in person," Peeta said, still smiling, still holding tightly onto Katniss' hand. She gives him a look out of the corner of her eye.

I laugh. "Well, my stylists do a great job. I don't look like this in real life."

"Yeah, well, our stylists do a pretty good job on us, too," Peeta laughed as well.

There are many other people at the party who are clamoring to talk to the victors of the most recent Hunger Games. I can see them staring at me jealously as I talk to them by myself.

"How is District 12?"

"It's nice…" Peeta started.

"It's the same," Katniss interrupted.

"The same? Haven't you moved into the Victor's Village? I've heard how wonderful those houses are."

"You asked how District 12 is," Katniss said, her voice steady, her eyes staring into mine. "and it is the same. Nothing has changed. Nothing will ever change."

I glance around at all the onlookers to our conversation, all the cameras recording and photographing every step of mine and the two winners. I smile calmly, knowing it will make an enemy of the symbol of the rebellion but possibly save the rebellion itself. "Well, of course. The Capitol is so gracious to its districts. Why would you possibly want anything to change?"

* * *

"Dance with me, Mr. Sunderling."

Ian looks over at me, his eyebrows raised. He shakes his head and silently mouths the word no before returning to his nightly duty of checking over my bedroom, bathroom, and closets for anybody or anything suspicious. The rumors of how badly the President wants to dispose of me have resurfaced, and Ian has become even more cautious in the last few weeks.

The party finally dwindled after nearly five hours, but I think it only moved onto the streets. Although it's shortly after 3 am, the sounds of thousands of people outside the mansion drinking and dancing filters up to my room.

"Everything's clear," Ian said curtly. He looks tired, the bags under his eyes heavy. "Good night, Mrs. Snow."

"Don't call me that," I replied harshly. Probably too harshly. I guess I am tired too. I get up from the chair where Valeria has been helping me out of my shoes. My head starts to swim and I stumble sideways, almost losing my balance. Valeria helps balance me and starts taking the pins down from my hair. It falls down my back in waves.

Ian nods, staring at me. "Then good night, Analeigh."

"Ian, please dance with me."

He has already made it halfway to the door. "You know I can't do that." His back is stiff. I can see his muscles flex under the tuxedo jacket.

"Valeria thinks you should dance with me."

Valeria smiles so brightly it lights up her whole face. Ian turns slowly, and she nods eagerly, but Ian's face is stern and cold.

"I think you have had too much to drink tonight, Mrs. Sn…Analeigh. You should get your rest."

He's right, I did have a lot to drink tonight. After the incident with Peeta and Katniss, I just hated myself so much and wanted to forget about it. So I had a few glasses of wine. But there is nothing wrong with that. Who's not entitled to a bit of wine every now and then?

"Please," I continued, walking towards him, feeling dizzy with my own steps, "nobody has danced with me in so very long."

I'm so close I can feel his breath on my cheek. He looks down at me and turns up his nose. "You wreak of alcohol." He grabs hold of my shoulders and I lean in with a slight smile, thinking I am getting my way, but he is only steadying me as I lose my balance again. "Please get her to bed soon," he asks Valeria before turning to leave again.

"They hate me, you know."

Ian sighs heavily, his shoulders slumping as he turns to face me for the third time. He is annoyed with me. "Who hates you?"

"Peeta and Katniss. They hate me."

"They're teenagers. They'll get over it."

"No! No they won't." My speech is slurred even to me. "They will never forgive me. Not for tonight. Not for anything." There are tears in my eyes that I haven't even noticed. I wipe them away clumsily.

Ian's eyes soften. "They will."

Valeria comes up behind me and gently puts her hands on my upper arms. I let her lead me to the bed and I sit down. Fatigue from the night and the drinking finally sets in. I barely notice Ian leave, and soon Valeria has helped me out of my dress and into my silk pajamas. She pulls back the covers and I slide in gratefully. Before Valeria can reach the door and turn out the light, I am asleep.


	9. Chapter 8

_Hello everyone! So sorry about taking a little longer to update. Been super busy! But the next few chapters are uploaded and ready to update :) Thanks so much to Luke777,sghope16, CJstoriesandobsessions for their continued reviews. And also many thanks to new reviewer, September Samstar. I appreciate all your comments and save them to keep me motivated to keep updated :) You guys are awesome!_

**Chapter 8**

The nightmares that usually only plague me in the spring come almost night. It's as if my subconscious knows something my conscious mind yet does not. The lack of sleep combined with the cold, short days of winter seem to be affecting my performance. Plutarch continuously bothers me for more information, but the secrets that once flowed easily through the walls of the mansion are harder to discover. I have to find energy just to get out of bed in the morning, and my mind has been foggy and difficult to focus. I start the feel the old emotion of uselessness creep back in.

It's the morning of my wedding anniversary. The nightmares came all night, and morning brings no relief. Valeria enters silently but then throws open the heavy curtains that have been placed over the usual sheer ones. The sun is blinding as it reflects against the white snow that fell last night. I groan and roll over, so exhausted my body literally aches. But Valeria pulls the covers off of me and forces me to get up. It's time to get ready.

The citizens of the Capitol expect to see me and my husband today, acting the part of happily married couple celebrating each year of marriage. It is a special occasion, but thankfully not special enough to warrant my stylist and prep team. We usually make an appearance on the balcony where Coriolanus gives a short speech about his love for me while I look adoringly at him. After that we can go our separate ways and back to normal life.

Valeria helps me dress warmly in a gold dress with long sleeves and a heavy white jacket. My makeup is simple as the cold air always flushes my cheeks anyway, but she has to put quite a bit of concealer under my eyes. She pulls my hair up loosely. I am ready within an hour.

My husband is waiting for me at the entrance to the balcony. He is almost handsome in a blue suit with black shirt underneath and long black coat, although he looks like he has aged another five years in the eight months since the Hunger Games. He smiles at me warmly and wraps me in a hug and gives me a kiss on the cheek. The smell of roses is incredibly powerful, but even that cannot cover the smell of blood, and I know his mouth ulcers must have gotten worse.

"Analeigh, happy anniversary."

"Happy anniversary to you, too, darling." The years of practice are good to me, even though I am exhausted and now aligned with the rebels, I can look at my husband and smile as if nothing is wrong. Just like he has always done for me.

I see Ian standing close by, but he is not paying much attention. He and Orli seem to be in a deep conversation about something.

"Are you ready for a bit of cold air?" Coriolanus asked, his hand on the small of my back, guiding me closer to the doors.

"I hope so."

Avox servants open the double doors and we step out together, holding hands, smiling and waving. The wintry air hits me squarely and takes my breath away for a second, but I do not lose my smile. I can't believe how many people have come to see us on this blisteringly cold morning, but the square is full of screaming citizens.

I take my seat and Coriolanus walks to the podium, raising his hand to quiet the crowd. He gives a beautiful speech about he has fallen more and more in love with me over the past nineteen years, and it is his honor to spend his life next to me. I play my part as well as the camera pans to me quite often. Then Coriolanus digs in his jacket for something, a present for me, he says. I can see Ian tense from his post close to the doors, and I sit up a bit straighter, a bolt of nervousness biting through the cold. Surely he hasn't brought me out here to kill me. But the President has been a desperate man lately…

He pulls out a long, slender box. Ian relaxes and my mouth drops open and Coriolanus pulls it open and shows it to the crowd, but he is facing me as he speaks into the microphone.

"In honor of my love for you Analeigh, my wife of nineteen years and the most beautiful woman in all of Panem, I have this diamond bracelet to give to you. It will never be as stunning as you are, but hopefully every time you look at it, you will be reminded of my feelings for you."

I stand up amidst the roaring applause of the crowd as my husband walks towards me. He slips it on my wrist and I can't help but gaze in awe at the bracelet. It is full of light blue diamonds, almost the same color as my eyes. It catches every ray of the sun and sparkles with every movement. It is the most stunning piece of jewelry I have ever seen.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

"It has an inscription on the inside," Coriolanus smiled.

I eagerly flip the band over. The back is white gold, and the etchings are hard to read against the glare of the reflecting sun. I lean in to get a better look and finally see the cursive writing…_I am always with you._

I feel my cheeks flush, not from the cold but from something I had yet to feel in my time of being a rebel. Fear. What could be a simple expression of love for anyone else meant something completely different to me. It was a threat.

I look up at Coriolanus, my eyes full of my emotions. He has hold of my other hand and pats it gently, a smile so warm and caring but his eyes incredibly calculating and emotionless. "Oh, darling, you thought I didn't know." He laughs slightly before turning back to the crowd, lifting our clasped hands to the applause. I smile weakly and wave, trying to bury my anxiety. But as soon as the doors of the balcony close behind us and he releases my hand, I rush back to the comfort of my room.


	10. Chapter 9

_Hello and thank you so much for your reviews: Luke777, sghope16, CJstoriesandobsessions, and September Samstar! I really look forward to reading your comments. I only answer questions that I don't feel are truly answered in the story, and one was mentioned from the last chapter by CJstoriesandobsessions that I think is a good point..._

_When I was writing this story, I wrote it under the pretense that President Snow really did love Analeigh at one time. But as his paranoia set in, and he became more the man we know from the books, it was lost under everything else._

_Enjoy!_

**Chapter 9**

"He knows." Ian is pacing the small room in the back of the library, his nervousness all over his face. He had panicked as soon as I told him about the inscription, way more than I had, and called an emergency meeting with Plutarch. I am still in my dress and jacket from earlier, sitting at the small table. Plutarch stands across from me, trying to warm his hands by blowing into them.

"I understand what you've told me about how the President now knows about Mrs. Snow's…situation. But what do you want me to do about it?" Plutarch asked. He has put on some more weight and the buttons bulge on his jacket.

"I want you to get her out of here!" Ian stops pacing and stares at the head Gamemaker, exasperated. "She's done enough."

"I've already told you, I can't do that," Plutarch replied, looking just as frustrated as my bodyguard.

"Why not?"

"It's too soon. If I get her out now, the President would send his entire force after her, and District 13 is not ready to defend itself quite yet."

"Well then, take her somewhere else."

"Where?" Plutarch asked. "Where can I possibly take her that she would be safe? To one of the districts that is rebelling where the Capitol drops bombs almost every day? Or maybe to Districts 1 and 2 which are still allied with the Capitol?"

"You promised when she got involved in this that you would help protect her and give her a safe place to go if things got bad. It is time to fulfill your promise, Mr. Heavensbee," Ian said, his voice low and menacing.

"Listen, I understand your concern, but let's face it. President Snow made an idle threat. You can't be close to the President and not receive a threat every now and then."

"He tried to poison her right after the Games," Ian interjected, but Plutarch only shrugged.

"And he tried, obviously half-heartedly, to poison her. He was in a very bad state at that time. We all know that. He did some things that were somewhat…out of character. But she is still alive. And you want to know why that is?"

"Because I stopped her from drinking the damned tea!" Ian shouted. He was furious by now and had started pacing again. It was so cold that I could see each breath, and his were coming out in uncontrolled huffs.

"Yes, and also because the President is not a stupid man. Mrs. Snow is a very well-known figure. He can't just kill her off and nobody pay attention. The citizens LOVE her. They will demand to know what happened."

"Lies are told everyday in the Capitol."

"Yes, but not lies that will make the President look bad. She is on the television and in the Capitol newspaper almost everyday, looking as healthy and beautiful as ever. Do you really think the people will accept it if she dies suddenly from 'an unknown illness'? As much as you dislike us common folk, Mr. Sunderling, even you must admit that we are not that dumb."

Ian shook his head. "You need to get her out of here."

"Ian, stop it," I finally spoke up. "Plutarch is right. I need to stay here. It's too soon to leave."

"He is going to kill you, Analeigh," Ian replied, his voice lowered.

"He was going to kill me anyway, right?" I smile sadly, looking up at him. "I'm in no more danger now than I was before." I was faking a confidence that I didn't feel, but it seems to work. Ian sighs heavily before looking back over at the head Gamemaker.

"Alright, you win. So what do we do now?"

Plutarch smiles, relieved. "Do exactly what you have been doing. The best thing is to keep acting like nothing has changed."

And we did. Days went by, and soon weeks. Winter thawed into spring, and there were no more threats. In fact, I barely saw my husband at all. The air seemed thicker, and I could feel something big was about to happen, but as hard as I searched I could find no evidence of anything. So I was just as surprised as everyone else on April 1st, when the President announced in front of all of Panem the twist of this year's Quarter Quell.

* * *

"Are you crazy?"

Coriolanus turns to me, his eyebrows raised. The crowd behind the closed doors to the balcony are still screaming with the tortuous news that former victors would be the ones going back into the arena for the 75th Hunger Games.

"What did you say?"

"I asked if you were crazy," I answered, unflinching at his snake eyes. "You can't send former victors back in. It's cruel, and the people hate it."

"My dear, you saw the paper. It was written out when the Hunger Games began 75 years ago. I had nothing to do with it." His smile is sickly sweet, his words smooth. But he is a liar and I know it. He wants to get rid of Katniss, and this is the best way. The only way really, that he can get rid of her without anyone blaming him.

"You're only going to give fuel to the fires of the rebellion, you know that, right?"

Coriolanus raises his finger and shakes it at me. "Do not try to lecture me on how to handle a rebellion, my wife."

Ian has hold of my shoulder and is pulling me backwards. I give one last steely glare at my husband before letting him lead me away.

"Give my regards to everyone, sweetheart," I called over my shoulder. "I suddenly don't feel like partying tonight. And I doubt anyone else in the Capitol does, either."


	11. Chapter 10

_So grateful to my faithful reviewers Luke777, sghope16, and CJstoriesandobsessions! Hope you enjoy the next chapter :)_

**Chapter 10**

I am anxious as the prep team helps me prepare for the interviews tonight. The Reapings were a week ago, and the tributes are back in the Capitol for the start of the Hunger Games. All of them are familiar faces. Although I did not watch their Games, I got to know the winners just like everyone else did. They were at almost every party; they were interviewed every year; they were mentors to the new tributes. Finnick is a tribute, as well as Katniss and Peeta. I am nervous for them, but I also know what's coming. It is almost time for District 13 to re-emerge. This is the beginning of the end for the Capitol. After the rebels have gotten the tributes out of the Game, they will come for me, Plutarch has promised. Less than a week and I will be leaving for safety.

Kane arrives with a stunning dress, as always. It is one-shoulder, white and adorned with sky blue jewels. The fabric seems to swirl across my body in waves. I look in the mirror and am amazed at how the dress sparkles with each movement. It makes me look almost ethereal. Kane pulls out the bracelet my husband gave me and slips it on my right arm.

"I made the dress after I saw this beautiful bracelet," Kane said, a wide smile across his face. "And now you are ready." His eyeliner is green tonight, along with green lipstick. I smile back, knowing it would be suspicious to admit I do not want to wear the bracelet.

"You've outdone yourself, Kane," I said and wrap him in a hug. Kane is not my friend, but he has been close. I know this might very well be the last time I see him. He is awkward in the hug, lightly patting my back as I hold tightly onto him. I let go and he steps back, bows slightly, and hurries out of the room, almost running into Ian as my bodyguard enters.

"What did you do to the poor guy?" Ian asked, smiling at me quizzically.

"I gave him a hug," I laughed.

"Oh, you didn't."

I laugh harder. "Yes, I did."

Ian chuckles before becoming somber. "So the Games start tomorrow. Are you ready?"

"As ready as I can be, I guess."

"Are you ready for tonight?"

I nod. "Yes, let's get this over with."

Ian walks slightly behind me as I walk through the dark hallways of the mansion. The interviews are held at a large auditorium not far from my home. I could easily walk there, but the wife of the President doesn't walk anywhere in a formal gown, so a car is waiting for me. I climb in the backseat and Ian slides next to me. I relax against the leather as the driver pulls away.

"It's almost over, isn't it?" I said.

Ian nods. "It's almost over."

The auditorium is already full when I arrive. Attendants guide me to my seat high above the others in a balcony overlooking the stage. My husband rises from his chair to greet me. Plutarch is there, along with several other honored guests. I recognize most of them, just wealthy citizens from the Capitol who have paid a lot of money to sit in the President's box. I greet them all and apologize for my "lateness", explaining why Coriolanus and I arrived separately. He grabs my hand as we sit down. I glance over quickly and see Ian standing next to Orli by the entrance of the balcony. He nods to me slightly before focusing forward. The music is suddenly pounding in my ears and Caesar Flickerman is on the stage, announcing the arrival of the tributes.

One by one they give their interviews, and the crowd is crying before the first one is even over. By the time Katniss and Peeta take the stage, there are wails and screams filling every corner. Then Peeta announces that he and Katniss have secretly wed and she is pregnant with their child, and the noise is so deafening I have to cover my ears.

I glance over at Coriolanus. His face is unreadable, as always, but his jaw is tight. He is grinding his teeth so hard I can practically hear it above the crowd. Then, as the tributes all join hands in a sign of unity against the unfairness of this Hunger Games, the audience rises with them, giving them a thunderous applause. All of us in the box are on our feet as well. My husband turns to leave, but I don't even pay attention to him, completely enraptured with the tributes.

The room seems to only grow louder as the tributes turn to file out. People are screaming and crying. The woman next to me tries to say something in my ear, but I can't hear her and only smile and point to the crowd with a shrug. I also can't hear Ian as he yells at me to get down. I don't hear the gunshot, but I watch the woman's face turn to horror. I start to feel a wetness spread across my abdomen. I look down and see blood…so much blood all over my beautiful white dress. Then the searing pain hits, and everything goes black.


	12. Chapter 11

_Warning! Severe language in this chapter. Sorry! I don't like to use curse words, but felt the character just wouldn't be right without them._

_Thank you so very much to Luke777, sghope16, and CJstoriesandobsessions for your reviews. You guys are so awesomely consistent, and I'm happy you have been enjoying the story from the beginning._

**Chapter 11**

I'm dead. I have to be dead.

As my eyes slowly open, I see blue above me. Maybe I'm flying. I look slightly to my right and see billowy white curtains. There is a gentle breeze and the fragrance of fresh roses. The familiar smell prompts a memory. Roses along with blood. My husband. The interviews. The blood all over my dress.

I sit up quickly and everything starts to spin. I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. I feel pressure on my hand. Someone is squeezing it. I slowly open my eyes and see Valeria. She is standing next to the bed, holding onto my hand, tears sliding down her cheeks, a joyous smile on her face.

I'm in my bedroom. The windows are slightly open, letting in a warm breeze. The room has stopped spinning, thankfully. I look over at Valeria and give her an encouraging smile. She squeezes my hand one last time, hard, before stepping away. As she moves, I see another figure behind her close to a chair next to the door. Ian.

He takes a few tentative steps towards me. His eyes are bloodshot.

"You're awake," he said, his voice sounding hoarse. "How are you feeling?"

"Ok, I guess. What happened?" My throat feels dry. The words are hard to get out.

"A man in the box…he had a gun. He shot you."

"How long was I out?"

"A little over a week."

"What?" I asked loudly, getting too excited. The room starts to tilt sideways. I close my eyes for a second and take a deep breath. Ian is by my side now. He sits in the chair next to my bed, where Valeria has no doubt been sitting all week.

"The Hunger Games…" I said slowly.

Ian shakes his head. "It didn't go exactly as planned. We got Katniss and Finnick and a few others out. But Peeta and Johanna have been taken prisoner, along with a few people from the districts."

I lean my head back against the multitude of pillows against the headboard, trying to wrap my mind around the information.

"Analeigh, it's time to get you out of the Capitol. But Plutarch needs one more thing from you, if you are able," Ian said, his eyes full of concern. "If you can't, we'll just tell him that. Don't worry about…"

"I'll do it," I said, my voice stronger now. "Whatever he needs, I'll do it."

Ian sighs and runs his hand through his hair. He has more wrinkles around his eyes now, and peeks of gray are showing around his ears. "He needs you to find out where the prisoners are being held."

I inhale sharply. Prisoners are held in a very secret location in the sewers of the Capitol. The tunnels are dizzying, so much so that even maintenance workers who go down in them everyday get lost occasionally and are never heard from again.

"I will try, but I don't know if that's possible," I replied, my heart filling with regret. "Even if I find out exactly where they are, there's no guarantee that we could get them out safely. Those tunnels are a death trap."

Ian nods. "That's ok. Don't worry about it for now. You've already been through so much as it is. You should get some more rest." He gets up quickly and moves towards the exit. He may act like he's leaving, but I have no doubt he will not move from outside my door. Valeria gives me another smile. She pushes a few buttons on the remote next to my bed and a heaping plate of turkey legs and mashed potatoes pops up, my favorite. She motions toward the red button connected to the wall that sits next to me, and I know she is saying to push it if I need her. I smile and nod, and then she is gone, too. I eat eagerly, the smell of the food reminding me that I am very hungry. And I try to rest afterwards, but sleep does not come.

The sun sets over the horizon. It is stunning, hues of red and orange streak across the sky. I watch it from my window. Valeria comes in at least every hour. I can tell she's been terribly worried about me, and I am so very grateful for her and her loving nature. One person who has not been to visit me is my husband, although I am not very surprised.

* * *

I feel stronger and have been able to move around some in the last two days. At first the world went around in circles with every step, but it's gotten better as the day\ wore on. And it seems like I've eaten my weight in food. No doubt I was receiving supplemental nutrition while I was out, but there's something about warm food that melts in your mouth that helps awaken the body.

Valeria had motioned towards the bathroom earlier, asking if I wanted to shower, but I said no. I didn't really feel like it at the time, but now I do. I walk slowly and slightly hunched over. If I stand up completely, I can feel a twinge from where the bullet entered my back and came out through the front. It doesn't really hurt; it's more like a spasm that starts in that area and moves down my body. A doctor who comes in every day to check me over had promised that would go away soon. I hope his definition of soon and mine are the same.

As I pass my desk, I see all the letters from well-wishers around the Capitol that are accumulating. I haven't opened any of them. The last letter I read was from Ingris.

I start the water with no problem. It gets hot almost instantly, and steam starts to fill up the bathroom. The mirror is already fogging up as I start to take off my clothes, but I can still see the scar. I wipe the mirror off with a towel and study it again. It's only a few centimeters across on the left side of my lower abdomen. The doctor said the bullet hit my kidney, but thankfully it missed my liver. He also told me they had to do three blood transfusions and worked for hours to save me, but that it could have been a lot worse. He had seen the video, and the shooter was off-balance when he shot because a peacekeeper was tackling him. Originally the shooter was aiming at my head.

I couldn't help but smile when he told me this. Although I understood the seriousness, I knew that peacekeeper was Ian, no doubt flying across several chairs and people to take down the man with the gun, trying to protect me. The shooter was now dead. He was convicted and executed within a matter of days.

I am still staring at the scar. Obviously, I know there are procedures to get rid of it, and at first my reaction was disgust at the ugly mark on my otherwise pristine skin. But the more I look at it, the more I like it. It is a battle scar, one that I have earned. I only hope that Coriolanus has not planned anything else for me. The shooter had not been connected to him in any way, of course, but we all knew better. My husband couldn't figure out a way to get rid of me privately, so he decided to do it publicly and make a spectacle of it. So bad for him that I didn't die.

I finally climb in the shower after the mirror completely fogs up again. I just stand there for the longest time, letting the hot water splash over me. I push a button and lavender fills the air. I inhale deeply, feeling its relaxing effects. When I step out, my eyes are heavy, and I am looking forward to climbing in my big bed and getting some good rest. I towel dry my hair quickly and climb into my silk pajamas.

I open the door and steam follows me out. Valeria must have come in while I was in the shower and turned down my bed. The sheets look so inviting. But something to my right catches my eye. I turn and am shocked to see Orli, leaning against my bedroom door, smoking a cigarette.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, feeling very exposed in only my nightgown. I cross my arms over my chest to make me look very angry and also provide me more coverage.

"Where is Ian?"

Orli tilts his head back, letting smoke out slowly. He grins slightly, seemingly pleased to see me so uncomfortable. "Ian had to go take a piss, just like any other regular guy. He asked me to keep an eye on you until he got back."

"He could have used my bathroom."

"Yes, well, that would have been awfully hard with you taking the longest damn shower on record."

His frame was almost bigger than the door's. He probably used to be a handsome man, but the years of smoking and drinking have taken their toll. His gut now folds over his pants, and his face sags wearily.

"You haven't answered my other question. What are you doing here?" My eyes flick over to the red button used to call for Valeria whenever I need her. Orli seems to see it, too, and steps farther into my room, standing between the door and my bed, partially blocking my path to either.

"I'm here to help you." There's that seedy grin again. He takes another puff on his stupid cigarette.

"How can _you _help _me_?" I'm getting more angry and less afraid. If he was here to hurt me, he would have done it by now. Every minute that passes by is another minute that Ian will be back. "And put out that cigarette."

Orli glares at me out of the corner of his eyes, but he takes one last long inhale before throwing it on the carpet and stomping it out. It leaves a black mark on my fluffy tan rug.

"I have the information everybody wants to know." A big grin this time, showing off yellowed teeth and darkening gums. He pauses, appearing to wait for me to respond.

"And what is that?" I asked slowly.

"I know where the prisoners are."

I take a deep breath. Could he really know where they are? Ian and I have been poring over detailed drawings of the tunnels, trying to figure out a place where they might be, but it has been no use. I had almost given up hope.

"Why should I trust you?" I asked suspiciously, narrowing my eyes.

Orli laughs. "Because you ain't got no other choice, honey."

"And what do you want in return? Money? A ride out of here?"

"You really don't know anything, do you?" Orli shakes his head at me. I resent the comment but let him continue. "I've been doing your husband's dirty work for over twenty damn years. Why do you think I'm the only bodyguard of his that's lasted this long? It's because I keep my fucking mouth shut and do fucking good work, you see?"

"So why turn on him now?"

"Because I have to look at you every damn day."

"What do you mean by that?"

Orli is looking at the floor, but his eyes are softer. "It was me, Mrs. Snow. It was me who killed your family. I went in with two other guys. We shot them all in the head and then set the fire."

The next thing I remember is Ian pulling me off Orli. His face was scratched and bloodied, but he didn't fight back. I was still screaming and kicking. It took two hours for me to calm down, but afterwards, I finally saw the Orli that Ian had seen all along. A man wracked with guilt over having done terrible things to innocent people. And we talked all night about the best way to rescue the prisoners and make things right.


	13. Chapter 12

_You guys are all completely and utterly awesome. Although sometimes I wish more people were reviewing, to see the same reviewers chapter after chapter encourages me and lets me know that you are enjoying the story, from start to finish hopefully! Luke777, sghope16, CJstoriesandobsessions (I have your pen names memorized!), I hope you enjoy the latest chapter. It will probably be the last I get uploaded before Christmas. I'm sorry for the longer delay...I have been so utterly busy with a sick child and wrapping presents and such between work and shopping! Hope you all have a happy holiday!_

**Chapter 12**

Two weeks have gone by. Two tortuous weeks. I've watched the propaganda just like everyone else in Panem has. I've seen Peeta on the television, at first looking healthy, then later obviously starved, half-crazy, and even beaten on camera. I often asked Ian why we couldn't just go get him when they took him out to the interviews, but he reminded me that it is not only Peeta we are after. The rescue has to be timed perfectly to get everyone out, including me. There's also propaganda from District 13, most of it involving Katniss.

I have been essentially a prisoner in my room, too scared to leave and also not allowed to go out by Ian. So all I can do is wait and worry. At least the muscle spasms have gone away. I can walk normally again, true to the doctor's words. Finally, Ian comes into my room and says that tomorrow is the day. District 13 is coming for us.

"Do you think it will work?" I asked. I am excited, but also nervous. Very, very nervous.

Ian doesn't instill much confidence in me. He only shrugs.

I roll my eyes. "Oh, thank you. I feel so much better." I sit down in the chair where I have sat so many times, looking out the window. There are many people in the square, just going about their daily duties. They have no idea. A part of me wishes I was as oblivious as they are.

"Something just doesn't seem right to me," Ian said slowly. He seems to be debating with himself if he should even say anything.

"What do you mean?" I asked cautiously.

"The prisoners are in the basement of the hospital, easily accessible by almost any of the staff. I know they have guards down there, but not nearly enough. It's almost like…like they want District 13 to come after them."

"Like it's too easy?"

Ian nods. "Exactly."

I sigh heavily. "Do you think it's a trap?

Ian nods his head thoughtfully. "Yes, but not for the prisoners."

"Then for who?"

His eyes bore into mine. "I think it's a trap for you."

* * *

Ian's words stay with me all night. I don't sleep at all. The morning is overcast with no sun but warm. I can barely eat any breakfast, or lunch. The day seems to drag, but finally the sun starts to set. Ian enters my room somberly, and the propaganda from District 13 flashes on. Katniss and Finnick are sitting in the woods, and as they start to tell their tales, Ian turns to me.

"It's time. Are you ready?"

I am so nervous that I am practically shaking, but I nod my head. "Yes."

I am taking nothing with me, and I am actually remorseful to leave behind so many beautiful things. My fingers trace the smooth wood of my vanity. I try to shake the thought, knowing the life ahead will be nothing like this life, but that it will be a better life. Valeria has stayed with me all day, trying to keep me calm. She left only a short while ago to pack a few things and meet us in the gardens. I am grateful that Ian allowed her to come. Although she is not a rebel, she was one of the few people I called a friend, and there was no way I was going to leave her behind. Orli has decided not to come, although he was willingly offered a spot. He mumbled something about how there wasn't any alcohol in District 13, and he was going to be needing a lot of it.

We have a ways to go. There is only one hovercraft coming, and it will park for a few short minutes close to the hospital for the rescue, so we have to meet it there and in a timely manner. Even in the coming darkness, we will be terribly exposed.

Ian opens the door slightly.

"Wait, Ian," I suddenly said, closing the door. A feeling of dread was rising in my chest, but not for me. It was for him. "Before we go, I need you to promise me something."

"Analeigh, we don't have time…"

"I'm not going anywhere until you promise."

"Promise what?" His face is just inches from mine. He is aggravated by the delay, I can hear it in his tone.

"You have to promise not to die for me."

His face falls, and his eyes are full of doubt and yet resolve at the same time. He shakes his head. "You know I can't do that."

I am scared but I have also made up my mind. I place my palm against his cheek, and he instantly softens. Something stirs deep inside me. Something I haven't felt in a very long time. "It's not your job to protect me anymore, Ian. You have to promise."

"I've almost let you die once. I'm not going to let it happen again." His eyes are so full of regret, I wish I could take it all away. But I can only stroke his cheek.

"You have done more for me than anyone else ever has," I replied softly.

Then he does something that I do not expect at all. He bends down and kisses my lips. It's soft yet so strong. I reach up and place my hands behind his head, pulling him closer. A million emotions burst inside me. It's over too soon. Ian suddenly pulls away. He opens the door and takes my elbow, leading me out, without promising anything.

We make it to the gardens without incident. The mansion is eerily dark and quiet, only increasing our cautiousness. Something seems wrong.

Ian walks in front of me but I follow closely. The garden is lush and escaping its boundaries into the walking paths. Sometimes our view is completely obstructed. Finally I see the large wooden door at the edge of the garden. I can see Valeria's small frame, standing nervously. Ian goes to the door while I run to Valeria, giving her a hug. She squeezes me tightly. We turn to Ian, but he is struggling considerably with the door. It is heavy with many locks to stop citizens from entering the mansion through the gardens, but we have gone in and out through this door many times. Tonight, even with Ian putting all his strength into it, it isn't moving.

He looks back at us, the sweat starting to bead up on his forehead. "It must be blocked from the outside."

The garden suddenly seems considerably smaller. I hear leaves rustle on one side of me, a twig snap on the other. We are being surrounded.

Valeria and I clutch each other as Ian comes to stand in front of us. My heart seems to be beating a million times a second, and my chest can barely contain it. Valeria is trembling slightly as I hold her tightly. Bright lights flicker on, and we can see them. Peacekeepers all around us, guns raised and ready to fire.

"Watch out!"

My brain barely has time to comprehend before Ian has thrown me and Valeria to the ground. There is a blast behind us, wood and bricks flying everywhere. And then I am being dragged to my feet and pulled away. Dust from the explosion is still hovering heavily in the air, and I can barely see. I cough and stumble my way through the now broken path. When my eyes readjust, I am in the street, being pulled along by Orli.

I realize that it was his voice I heard. He is carrying a large weapon, one capable of blowing up the gate. Ian and Valeria are both to my left, running as fast as they can.

"Are you ok?" Orli huffs. His large stomach is heaving up and down with every step, and he is wheezing, looking like he could double over at any minute. But he keeps running, and is actually running faster than any of us.

"I'm fine," I answered, realizing I am wheezing also. My lungs are still clogged with dust.

Orli releases my elbow and grabs the gun with both hands. He turns slightly and aims behind us, shooting several rounds. I glance over my shoulder as we run and see at least 20 Peacekeepers close behind us. Several fall with each of Orli's shots, but there are more to take their place.

I hear a strange _thwing_ sound and a scream. Hesitating, I look over and see Valeria hanging precariously in a rope net. One of the many traps my husband has set up through the city streets.

"Valeria!" I scream, my lungs still burning from the smoke and running. Orli is shooting and there are now bullets flying at us from the Peacekeepers. Ian grabs my arm and drags me along while I watch a spear from another mechanized contraption pierce her body.

The tears obstruct my view as we continue running. Ian's grip on my arm is merciless, and I am practically tripping over my feet.

"Analeigh, get hold of yourself!" Ian yells at me. I try to control my crying, but it is impossible. We make many turns and eventually come to a stop.

"Stop it," Ian hissed at me. I can barely see his face right in front of me. He has hold of my shoulders and shakes me, my back hitting the cement wall behind me. But I continue to moan and cry, mourning the loss of my friend.

"She died because of me," I blubbered through the tears. "I was supposed to be the one who died, not her!"

"And her death will be in vain if you don't be quiet!" Ian whispered through gritted teeth.

"Here, let me," I hear Orli growl. Then there is a painful smack across my left cheek. The force of it is enough to rattle my head. I hear a soft thud, and when I turn to face the two men again, I realize Orli has slapped me and Ian has punched him across the jaw in return. It was enough to return me to my senses, though, and I stop crying.

"Feel better?" Orli smirked.

"Yes," I answered meekly, rubbing my cheek.

I realize we are in a dark alley. I still hear Peacekeepers all around, but they seem to be heading in a different direction. I peek around the corner and can see the hospital towering above the other buildings. We are close.

"The Peacekeepers are all going to be heading toward that hovercraft," Orli said, lighting a cigarette and puffing on it hurriedly.

"Do you think we can make a run for it?" Ian asked.

"Maybe, but I doubt it."

"So what, are we just going to sit here?" I asked impatiently.

"She's right, we need to go," Ian agreed, nodding his head.

Orli sighs and throws down his cigarette, raising his weapon again. "Ok. I sure hope you're ready for this, honey."

As soon as we step out of our hiding place, we are being shot at. Just keep running, I tell myself. Over and over again. Each step is another step closer.

We round another corner into the square. There is the hovercraft, waiting for us. A young man stands at the back of the lowered end, waving us forward. Several others are there with guns, firing continuously at the horde of Peacekeepers approaching.

And then Orli goes down. He grabs his leg in pain. I can see his leg has been broken by the bullet before my brain even fully registers what has happened. Without thinking, I grab his hands and try to pull him along, but he doesn't budge.

"No!" Orli cries out, his face grimacing with pain. "Let me go!"

"Come on! You can still make it!" I yelled, angry at him. Angry at myself. "Ian, help me!" But Ian has grabbed the big gun Orli was carrying and is doing his best to fight off the Peacekeepers. It is no use, though, there are too many of them. I turn and see the young man on the hovercraft screaming at us furiously.

Orli looks up at me, that now familiar smirk on his crooked face. "I was never going to fit in at District 13 anyway. I just wanted to go out with a little style. Now give me that damn weapon!"

Ian frowns but hands it to him. Orli sits up, switching the gun back to its missile mode. One shot, one explosion. Another shot, another explosion. Ian has grabbed my hand and we are running. So close. Less than 50 feet. Almost there.

Ian and I run up the ramp, amidst the prisoners who have just been rescued and collapse, Ian wrapping me in his arms. I lean against him, my back against his chest, all of my emotions and energy completely used up. As the hovercraft takes off, I see Orli's head snap backwards, instantly dead from a Peacekeeper's bullet. Then the door closes, and we are speeding towards District 13.


	14. Chapter 13

_I am so sorry, my fellow reviewers! I have never forgotten about you. This chapter is short, but I hope you still enjoy it. And forgive my absence. The holidays can be quite exhausting, and I am just now recuperating! Hope your holidays were amazing!_

The tiny mirror is nothing like my old one. I can barely see anything as I braid my hair. It takes me twice as long as it would back in the Capitol. But that tiny mirror in this minuscule, window-less closet that is my room is my home now. Such is life in District 13.

As soon as I arrived with the others, Ian and I were separated. President Coin said something about how they needed to question him since he is a Peacekeeper. I don't think the President of District 13 likes me. She was sure to emphasize how I will not receive any special treatment, starting right then. I was forced into a bathroom to change out of my Capitol dress and given the normal attire of a long gray dress and gray shoes that are more like slippers. I was told to always wear my hair up, as it is such an odd color that it might make me stand out. I guess standing out in District 13 is bad. Everything is gray here.

At first, everyone stared at me. Of course they knew who I was, as much as President Coin tried to camouflage me. But nobody said anything. The only one who did was Katniss. She practically attacked me before Gale stepped in. Gale, I learned, was the young man in the hovercraft, waving us onwards. He seems to be a good man with a true heart but a little bit too much fire for revenge for me. I prefer a quiet life. I just wasn't expecting this quiet.

I literally don't have anybody anymore. Valeria is gone. Ian is missing; I haven't seen him since we arrived several weeks ago. I'm not even sure exactly how long we have been here. Each day comes and goes with nothing exciting or important and is quickly forgotten. I have nothing to do but follow the schedule given to all citizens every morning. It's basically eat, sleep, and walk around aimlessly all day for me. I asked if there was anything I could do to help, but President Coin informed me that my "skills of partying and playing dress up were not needed in District 13".

I'm scared we were too late on the rescue as well. Enobaria was unable to be brought out, and Peeta is a mess. His brain has been hijacked, poisoned with the venom of tracker jackers, his memories skewed. He now thinks Katniss is some sort of muttation and tries to kill her almost every chance he gets. Plutarch is around, but every time I see him he is always rushing around like he has much more important things to do.

My only hope comes from Finnick and Annie. Annie was one of those taken from the districts, but she was rescued successfully and Finnick has not let go of her hand since then. It's almost funny to me to see him so in love, but I finally realized that he was all along. Finnick was telling the truth all those times, but he had to hide his love for Annie to protect her. I feel a pang of guilt every time I see him for not believing him, but I am also happy. At least something good has come from all of this.

I am tortured by my loneliness and even catch myself missing the way things used to be. I didn't have many friends in the Capitol, but at least if you wanted to talk there was always someone who pretended to be interested. I was a woman of high stature, well-respected. If my days seemed boring there, they are nothing compared to this. I've never experienced such boredom.

I sigh heavily as I finish pinning the braid up at the back of my head. Maybe it's the mirror or the lighting, but I look much older. I lean in closer and push up my sagging cheeks. I've lost a lot of weight on the meager meals provided here. My skin has lost its luster and seems to be turning gray along with everything else. Even my bright red hair seems to be fading into ash.

I miss Valeria. I miss Ian. I miss my old life.


	15. Chapter 14

_I'm back! Thank you all so much for your patience and suppot. My reviewers really must be some of the best because you guys are there for me at all times, even when I am not writing. I hope this chapter is worth the wait. _

The food is so bland here. I can barely stand to eat it, but know that if I don't finish and get hungry later, there will be no snacking, so I do what I can to sustain myself. I eat alone, as per the usual. I get many stares, but no one seems to work up enough courage to actually speak to me. I look over and can see Katniss and Gale at a nearby table. They are looking at me and whispering, as is also per the usual. Probably wondering how much money I paid to get out of the Capitol before things got too nasty. Wondering how I even knew about District 13.

I hear footsteps walk behind me and jump when a thick hand claps me on the back.

"Mrs. Snow! Oh, but I hear you don't like to be called that anymore. Sorry…Analeigh."

I turn to see Plutarch's round, red face. He is smiling and acting like we are old friends even though he has been ignoring me for weeks. I give him a small smile in return, and he sits down beside me.

"How are things going for you? You enjoying District 13?"

"Not really," I answered honestly.

Plutarch laughs nervously. "Ah, well, it takes some getting used to for us Capitol folk. Listen, we were talking this morning and…we wondered if you wouldn't mind joining us for an afternoon meeting?"

I look at him suspiciously. "Who is we?"

"Me, and Haymitch, and President Coin…and Ian."

Haymitch. It was not the first time I had heard his name, but it would be our first meeting. The drunken yet deviously brilliant mentor of the District 12 tributes who had managed to keep both of them alive during the 74th Hunger Games. But my heart skips a beat at the mention of Ian's name. Without taking a second to think, I nod eagerly.

"I'll be there."

Plutarch smiles. "Oh, fabulous. 2 o'clock in the control room."

I nervously wait until the time comes, and my heart is racing as I walk toward the other side of the compound. I can't really pinpoint why I am nervous. Perhaps it is the specific request for my presence, especially by President Coin, who has seemed so willing to keep me confined to a closet. But I believe it mostly stems from seeing Ian again. I lightly brush my hand over my lips, remembering his kiss. The way it made me feel.

I enter the darkened room, surrounded by tv screens that are buzzing. Several figures stand, and I can barely make out their faces, but Ian is one of them. He gives me a small smile and nod, and I take a deep breath, so very happy to see him. Plutarch is also standing, along with Haymitch. President Coin does not get to her feet, but rather gives me a stern look from her chair at the head of the table. Katniss is there also. She doesn't even look up at me. There is another man who I do not recognize. He gives me a friendly smile.

"Mrs. Snow, have a seat." President Coin's voice is snappy and harsh. I take the seat next to Ian. He gives me a reassuring glance, and I feel comforted by his presence.

"I'm sure you're wondering why we called you here," President Coin began, "and let me just begin by saying this was NOT my idea. But Plutarch here seems to believe you might have some sway over the people, and that we can use that to our advantage." She gave a slight nod to Plutarch, signaling she was finished with her small speech.

Plutarch takes a deep breath before beginning, seeming to relish his moment in the spotlight. "Yes, you see, I was thinking that, if you would be willing, we could put you in front of a camera and plug you into the Capitol's televisions, much like we did with Katniss and Finnick during the raid."

"It's time for District 13 to make its stand. We are invading the Capitol in two days," Haymitch inserted.

"Yes, and if we can get you to do some propaganda for us, maybe the fighters won't find so much resistance. Maybe the people of the Capitol will start to be able to see the…failings of your husband. Just as you did."

I breathe in slowly, glancing at Ian out of the corner of my eye, checking for his supportive look, relying on him to be there for me as he always has been. He looks at me without turning his head, his back rigid but his eyes soft.

"On one condition," I said slowly, lifting my eyes to President Coin's.

She looks annoyed but nods, allowing me to make my request.

"That Ian is allowed to be there with me."

The President looks even more annoyed as she rolls her eyes and looks at the wall behind me. I know it has been her plan to keep us apart, although I can't really figure out why that would be necessary, and it is Plutarch who pushed for Ian to be here at this meeting today.

After another moment and another deep sigh, President Coin meets my gaze again. "Fine."

"Then I'll do it."

* * *

I've been in front of the cameras for most of my adult life, so it was really nothing new for me. President Coin even allowed me to have my dress back, the one that I had arrived in. Stylists came in and did my hair and nails and makeup. I received extra rations of food to fatten me up some. I understood it was more about the show. District 13 wanted to show me as the citizens of the Capitol knew me…beautiful, well-dressed, healthy. Happy.

So as the camera flashed on, and the man from the meeting who I did not recognize, Beetee, began to work his magic on getting the feed into the homes of Capitol citizens, I did my part. And I told my story, as honestly as I could. Ian stood behind the camera, watching me the whole time, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked thinner as well. I still hadn't had much time to talk with him, and I found my mind wandering to him instead of talking to the camera, but I managed to keep my composure.

I started at the beginning of my story, how I had first met and fallen in love with the President. How he had quickly turned on me, breaking the sanctity of our marriage with his whores. How he had killed my family. And then I went into the years upon years of lies. Over half of my life.

Once I was finished, Beetee asked if we could film a couple of short ones to run at later times, so I put my acting face back on and talked about how wonderful life away from the President is, how wonderful District 13 is. Finally, Beetee seems satisfied, and I stand from the hard, metallic chair, rubbing my legs.

Guards quickly grab both my arms and guide me back inside, back underground. I don't even get a second glance at Ian before I am back at my room and the door closes behind me.


	16. Chapter 15

_I'm incredibly grateful to all of you that have stuck by this story from the beginning. I hope the wait was worth it to you. This is the last chapter, and although I am sad to say goodbye to these characters (some of my favorite ones that I have ever created), I am happy to put together a complete story and to have the readers who enjoyed it. Much love!_

**Chapter** **15**

"Hello."

The shock of seeing Katniss at my door leaves me speechless, but thankfully I quickly regain my composure. "Please, c-come in."

I step out of the doorway and allow the young girl to enter. She looks around somewhat disapprovingly, and I embarrassingly notice my room is less than up to my standards. The bed is made but unkempt. I have been lying on it since the interviews earlier in the day. The only other piece of furniture is a small dresser which has grown dusty from its lack of use. I have only three items of clothing and two pairs of socks, which I keep all in the middle drawer. I catch a look at myself in the mirror. My hair is falling out from its pins and my makeup is smudged.

_I wonder what Coriolanus would say about me now_, I think to myself, and a small smile emerges before I turn back to Katniss, who is staring at me strangely.

"Please, sit," I said, motioning towards the bed. "I'm sorry I can't offer you better accommodations. You certainly deserve them…as the Mockingjay."

Katniss smoothes the blanket before sitting, a frown crossing her face. I have seen her up close only the one time at the mansion during her victory tour. She was stunning then, of course, with her hair and makeup done and fancy clothing. But here in front of me without the benefits of stylists, her long brown hair braided down her back, her gray clothing the same as mine but hanging off her fit frame better, she really is a beautiful girl.

"I don't deserve anything," she said, her eyes keeping to the floor. "But I thought they might give you something a little better…being the former First Lady of Panem. This is the smallest room I've seen in District 13."

I laugh, enjoying the feeling it spreads through my chest. "Yes, well, I don't think President Coin likes me very much."

Katniss laughs along with me, shaking her head. "Yeah, I don't think so either."

The laughter feels good, and it feels even better to laugh with somebody else. It's been too long since I've had anybody to talk to.

"You must be wondering why I'm here," Katniss says after a few minutes, her laughter fading into seriousness.

I stay quiet waiting for her to continue.

"I was going to sit with you at dinner, but you weren't there, and I felt like I needed to tell you before I left, so I came out to find you but it took some searching because I realized I didn't know where your room was…"

She is rambling a bit, seeming to dance around the point. It wasn't something I was used to. Being the President's wife, most my contact was with the Avox servants who could not speak or those who worked directly with my husband who seemed to have too few words. Even Ian, who spoke the most freely with me, wasn't known for his many words. I smother my impatience, reminding myself she is still a young girl and I am no longer the President's wife.

"…Anyway, I really just wanted to tell you that I am sorry." Katniss pauses, glancing up at me out of the tops of her eyes. "I'm really sorry."

Out of all the reasons for her coming here, I never suspected apologizing would be it. I shake my head. "I don't understand. I see no reason for you to be sorry."

"I've been very unfair to you and said some incredibly mean things about you. I never realized how…difficult…things were for you. But I saw some of the footage you shot today, and…yes, I needed to apologize."

I lean my head back against the wall. "No, Katniss, I should be apologizing to you. I could have tried to stop it…all those years…but I didn't. You had to suffer because I was scared." My thoughts turn to Ingris. I force the lump in the throat back down. "So please accept my sincerest apology. I only hope I can someday make it up to you and the others in the districts."

Katniss is staring at me as a single tear slides down my cheek. I give her a slight nod before leaning my head back, wiping away the remainder of the them welling up in my eyes.

"You already have," Katniss said, her voice barely above a whisper.

We stay in companionable silence for awhile, her sitting on the bed, twiddling her fingers, while I stand, leaning against the smooth white wall.

"You must get lonely here," she suddenly said, breaking my thoughts.

I shrug, trying not to let on that the crushing loneliness makes me question my decision to come. "A little."

"Your bodyguard…he came with you, didn't he?"

"Yes."

"Are you two friends?"

I press my lips together, remembering our brief kiss. "He's a very good friend."

"They are keeping you separate, aren't they? I think Coin is scared of him because he's a Peacekeeper."

"I don't really know."

Katniss pauses, a slow smile spreading across her face. "I know where he is."

* * *

I slip on my only clean pair of socks, hoping they will muffle my footsteps. No one is supposed to be out after lights out, but this might be my only chance. I must see Ian…tonight.

Katniss gave me as specific directions as she could, knowing I would be doing it in the dark with no points of reference. Ian was being kept on one of the lowest levels. There is a guard stationed at the entrance of the floor during the day, but at night, there is no one.

Thankfully, Katniss' directions are spot on, and I find my way down with hardly any problems. I go to the fifth door on the left and knock quietly.

The door opens and bright light floods the hallway, it takes my eyes a moment to adjust, but I am wrapped in his arms before I can even fully see his face. I grab tightly onto him, feeling his warmth, smelling his scent. It is Ian. I bury my head in his shoulder and cry.

I don't know how long he lets me stay like that. I feel him move slightly and I move with him as he closes the door behind us. I open my eyes briefly and look around to see we are in a room very similar to mine except with a cot instead of a bed.

Finally I lift my eyes to his, those comforting green eyes. His lips meet mine. And I finally feel like I am home.

* * *

"You aren't a Peacekeeper anymore. You don't have to follow orders." I sit on the cot, my arms crossed over my chest, angrily watching Ian, my love, move about in the small room. He is wearing a gray uniform, strapping a heavy vest over it. _But hardly bulletproof. Not against the Capitol's weapons_.

Ian looks over at me and smiles. "Did I ever really follow orders?"

I roll my eyes, thinking about how many times he broke protocol with me. How he saved me before I even knew I needed saving. My eyes travel over the cot, the sheets pushed to the end and the pillow rumpled. A smile briefly crosses my face, remembering our night together. But now it is morning, and reality has come yet again. Ian is being shipped out with the troops today. District 13 is going to try to storm the Capitol.

"Whether you followed orders or not was not the question. Why are you doing what they tell you to do? What _she_ tells you to do?" I sigh heavily, thinking of the oppressive President Coin. I traded in one dictator for another.

Ian, hearing my frustration, sits on the cot next to me. He takes one of my hands in both of his and holds it tightly. "If I do this, and District 13 wins…you will finally be free. As long as the Capitol is in power, you can never leave these walls. Don't you see? This is our only chance to make that happen."

I look down at my hand intertwined with his. He's right but I hate him for it. As long as Coriolanus is President of Panem, he will always be searching for me. And as long as President Coin is trying to overthrow him, she will never allow me to be anything more than a ghost here in District 13. Every scenario ends with me still being a prisoner. And Ian and I never able to be together.

Ian checks the clock on the otherwise bare wall, and I know it is time for him to go.

"Just promise me one thing. Don't die for me, ok?"

Ian smiles at me sadly, remembering me making that request before we fled the Capitol. He pulls me to him and kisses me hard, his tongue searching deep inside my mouth. I kiss him back eagerly, my skin sensitive to his every touch. Then abruptly, he gets up and walks out the door, leaving to meet his commander. I am alone…and Ian again promised me nothing.

* * *

News trickled in slowly from the front. I was with Annie when the message arrived that Finnick was dead. I held her as she collapsed in my arms, her cries echoing against the metal table and chairs of the cafeteria.

Two days later we got word that the Capitol had fallen. Everyone in District 13 rejoiced, and President Coin boarded a jet to go to the city and celebrate her victory. The next day came the message that President Coin was dead, killed by Katniss. And Coriolanus had been killed in the resulting riot.

Still no word from my love, though. I fretted all day and worried all night. Annie would come to sit with me during the long nights, both of us unable to sleep. We didn't talk much, neither of us having the words to comfort each other. But it was nice to have someone there with me.

I had almost given up hope. Two weeks passed since the time we heard that the Capitol had fallen. District 13 was emptying out as others left to go to the Capitol or back to their respective districts. Even Annie had left to return to District 4 and be close to her family there. I thought about going back to the Capitol, but the thought of being there without Ian made me feel sick. And if he were to return somewhere, it would be here in District 13.

So I waited. And on an otherwise insignificant day, Ian finally returned, breezing through the doors of the compound like he had never been gone.

That was four years ago, but for me, it could have been a lifetime. There was a new president of Panem, one who despised cruelty towards others and immediately banned the Hunger Games. Districts essentially ruled themselves. The people were free, and the land thrived when out from the under the oppressive thumb of a dictator.

Since Ian returned healthy and unhurt, we have never left each other's sides. We have a lovely house on the coast right next to the water in District 4. I wake up next to my love and hear the waves hitting the shore gently through the open windows every morning. I always think it is a dream at first, but it's not.

Ian fishes, and I tend a garden. He makes fun of me for getting a tan on my porcelain skin. I make fun of him for the gray that continues to spread through his hair. The wrinkles around his eyes have deepened from being in the sun. But his eyes are carefree, and he seems younger than he ever did in the Capitol. I feel younger even as I age. I guess that's what happiness does for a person.

My womb is still barren, but there are plenty of children for us to love on. Annie and Finnick's daughter is one. We live only three houses down from Annie and get to watch the beautiful girl grow up.

I think of Katniss occasionally. I had heard she lost her sister in the fight, which sent her into a deep depression. But after she returned to District 12, she and Peeta found true love with each other, and she was doing better. She was still a young girl with so much life to live, and I wished her the best.

On this evening, like so many other evenings, I sit on the back porch with Ian, our hands intertwined, watching the sun set over the horizon. And I feel at peace.

My name is Analeigh Sunderling. I am married to a simple fisherman and we live a quiet life, but it is a life that I wouldn't trade for anything else in this world.


End file.
